THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

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OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


EDDYSTOXE  LIGHTHOUSE.        Isle  of  VTight  Stories. 


DESCRIPTIVE    O» 


'  Oh  !  hold  it  holy— It  will  prove  a  bond 
Of  love  and  brotherhood,  when  all  besldo 
Hath  been  dissolved— and  tlto'  wide  ocean  roll 
Between  the  children  of  one  fatherland, 
This  shall  be  their  communion — they  shall  send 
Linked  in  one  sacred  feeling — at  one  hoar, 
In  the  same  language — the  same  prayer  to  Heaven, 
And  each  resembling  each  in  piety, 
Pray  for  tho  other's  welfare." 

THE  PEATEB  BOOK.— Souiftey. 


BY  EMMA  MACALLAN. 


NEW  YORK: 

<Ccu.    $h-ot.    llpfsropnl    .3uttfi.il>    School    Union 
anU  Church  33oofe  -Socfetw, 

763    BROADWAY. 

1859. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1859, 
By  the  GENERAL  PROTESTANT  EPISCOPAL  SUNDAY  SCHOOL  UNIOX 

AND  CHURCH  BOOK  SOCIETY, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the 
Southern  District  of  New  York. 


RENNIE,  SHEA  &  LINDSAY, 

STERBOTYPIHS  AND  ELECTROTYPIRS,  PUDNEY  4  RUSSELL, 
81,  83,  A  85  Centre-stlMt  PKINTKHS, 

N«w  YORK.  No.  79  JoUn-»treet. 


17. 


TO 

THE  CHILDREN  OF  THE  CHURCH  IN  AMERICA, 
£|JCGC  simple  Stories 

ABE  AFFECTIONATELY  INSCRIBED. 


CONTENTS. 


EASTER  GARLANDS 9 

THE  LITTLE  ZOOPHYTE  GATHERERS  81 

THE  CHILDREN  OF  ST.  CATHERINE'S  CHANTRY    73 

SAND  DRAWINGS 109 

A  MOORLAND  RAMBLE  147 

A  PARISH  FESTIVAL  .  .  1U 


EASTER  GARLANDS. 


"  Bring  flowers  to  the  shrine  where  we  kneel  in  prayer : 
They  are  Nature's  offering,  their  place  is  there : 
They  speak  of  hope  to -the  fainting  heart ; 
With  a  voice  of  promise  they  come  and  part ; 
They  Bleep  in  dust  through  the  wintry  hours, 
They  break  forth  in  glory — bring  flowers,  BRIGHT  flowers." 

MRS.  HEICANS. 

AM  going  to  tell  my  young  read- 
ers a  story  which,  I  hope,  will 
interest  them.  It  is  about  two 
children  who  lived,  not  many 
years  ago,  in  a  tiny  fisherman's 
hut,  situated  near  the  lovely  vil- 
lage of  B ,  beyond  all  question  the  most 

picturesque  and  beautiful  in  the  Isle  of  Wight. 
Agnes  and  Robert  were  the  only  grand- 
children of  good  old  David  Landon,  a  man 
who  was  universally  respected  and  beloved, 
both  for  his  honesty  and  uprightness  of  char- 
acter, and  also  for  the  unfailing  kindness  of 
his  disposition.  This  boy  and  girl  were  the 


10  EASTER    GARLAJfDS. 

children  of  old  David's  youngest  daughter, 
whom  God  removed  after  a  lingering  illness, 
when  Robert  was  about  two  years  old.  Soon 
afterwards  their  father  also  died;  and  before 
the  brightness  of  another  Christmas  had  dawn- 
ed upon  the  world,  the  good  fisherman  laid  his 
aged  wife  to  rest  beneath  the  whispering  elm- 
trees  in  the  quiet  churchyard  of  B . 

Since  that  time,  Agnes  and  her  brother  had 
lived  quite  alone  with  their  grandfather,  in  the 
little  cottage  perched  on  the  summit  of  a  tall 
cliff  overhanging  the  dark-blue  sea.  They 
were  tolerably  comfortable,  and  very  cheerful 
and  contented.  At  the  period  of  which  I  write, 
Agnes  was  nearly  twelve,  and  Robert  only  one 
year  younger.  Like  all  of  us  they  had  faults, 
but  they  earnestly  endeavored  to  subdue  them, 
which,  alas!  is  far  from  being  the  case  with 
many  who  have,  like  them,  been  taught  that 
ALL  sin,  even  what  we  have  perhaps  allowed 
ourselves  to  look  upon  as  very  trivial  in  its 
nature,  is  yet  grievous  in  the  sight  of  a  most 
holy  God ! 

You  will  wonder  by  whom  these  children 
were  so  carefully  instructed,  as  their  grand- 
father was  occupied  from  daybreak  until  seven 
in  the  evening,  only  resting  for  an  hour  at 
noon  to  partake  of  a  slight  repast,  and  to  listen 


KASTER    GARLANDS.  11 

to  his  darlings'  recital  of  all  that  had  taken 
place  since  he  parted  from  them  in  the  mom- 
ing;  but  they  enjoyed  many  advantages  about 
which  I  will  tell  you. 

They  regularly  attended  the  parish  school  at 

B ,  where  they  were  taught  to  read  and 

write,  and,  what  they  had  learned  to  value 
most  of  all,  were  permitted  to  be  present  at  the 
week-day  as  well  as  the  Sunday  services.  On 
Wednesday  afternoons  they  were  in  the  habit 
of  assembling  at  the  church  to  receive  lessons 
in  sacred  music,  from  a  kind  lady  who  resided 
in  the  village,  and  thus  they  were  enabled  to 
unite  their  voices  with  the  multitude  of  the 
"  great  congregation"  in  singing  to  the  praise 
of  God  those  same  beautiful  and  glorious  an- 
thems which,  from  earliest  childhood,  have 
been  familiar  to  us  all. 

Besides  what  I  have  already  mentioned, 
Agnes  and  the  other  girls  were  taught  to  sew ; 
and  likewise  received  instruction  in  the  various 
departments  of  household  work,  such  as  wash- 
ing, ironing,  and  cooking,  which  knowledge 
served  to  render  them  useful  for  the  present  to 
their  parents,  and  also  tended  greatly  to  fit 
them  for  the  duties  of  a  life  of  industry,  when 
they  should  be  of  an  age  to  seek  employment 
away  from  home. 


12  EASTEK   GAKLANDS. 

You  will  understand  now  why  old  David's 
dwelling  should  always  be  so  neat,  and  his 
simple  meals  so  carefully  prepared  ;  it  was 
chiefly  owing  to  the  diligence  and  activity  of 
his  little  granddaughter. 

Their  cottage  was  one  of  the  half  dozen  scat- 
tered huts,  which  composed  the  tiny  fishing 
hamlet  of  L .  It  was  situated  about  mid- 
way down  the  Chine,  as  the  wild,  rocky  passes, 
opening  on  the  sea,  are  sometimes  called  in 
the  Isle  of  "Wight.  The  walls  were  completely 
overgrown  with  ivy,  which  is  found  in  great 
profusion  throughout  England,  although  we 
(in  America)  so  seldom  see  it  to  perfection. 
At  the  back  was  a  small  kitchen  garden,  where 
Robert  contrived  to  cultivate  a  few  cabbages, 
turnips,  and  potatoes,  together  with  a  row  of 
currant-bushes,  and  some  of  the  fine  goose- 
berries for  which  the  British  Isles  are  famed. 
There  was  also  a  strip  of  ground  in  front,  quite 
gay  with  a  variety  of  lovely  flowers — roses, 
both  pink  and  white  ;  the  fragrant,  starry  jes- 
samine; the  delicate  myrtle,  with  its  snowy 
petals  ;  the  pure,  waxen  laurestinus ;  the  pale, 
rose-tinted  sea-thrift ;  and  the  gorgeous  scarlet 
fuschia,  which  in  this  mild  climate  flourishes 
luxuriantly  in  the  open  air. 

One  sunny  afternoon,  in  the  month  of  April, 


EASTER    GARLANDS.  13 

the  children  took  their  accustomed  station 
upon  a  lofty  crag  to  watch  for  the  appearance 
of  their  grandfather.  That  had  been  a  pleasant 
morning!  They  had  gone  first  to  school,  as 
usual,  and  afterwards  to  church ;  for  it  was 
Easter-Eve,  and  during  all  that  Holy  "Week 
their  ordinary  lesson^  had  been  laid  aside,  and 
they  had  regularly  attended  Morning  Service, 
and  devoted  all  their  school-hours  to  the  study 
of  the  Catechism,  and  to  learning  hymns  and 
collects,  and  those  passages  in  the  Bible  which 
have  reference  to  our  Saviour's  sufferings,  and 
to  the  glory  of  His  resurrection.  The  anni- 
versary of  that  joyful  day  was  now  at  hand, 
and  their  young  hearts  glowed  with  the  warm1, 
deep  love  of  childhood  at  the  thought,  while 
"  the  peace  which  passeth  understanding"  shed 
its  calm  brightness  upon  each  youthful  brow. 

Ere  twenty  minutes  had  elapsed  the  wished- 
for  sail  appeared  in  view,  and  Kobert  bounded 
down  the  cliff  eager  to  secure  the  shining  cap- 
tives, which  were  to  be  distributed  that  after- 
noon among  the  principal  families  of  B , 

and  the  adjacent  town.  David,  in  the  mean 
time,  having  moored  his  vessel  in  the  quiet 
cove,  slowly  ascended  the  steep,  winding  foot- 
path from  the  shore,  and  entered  his  tidy 
kitchen,  where  he  found  the  bread  and  cheese, 
2 


14  EASTER    GAKLAJJDS. 

and  the  large  dish  of  baked  potatoes  already 
placed  upon  the  table. 

"  Grandpa,"  began  Agnes,  when  grace  had 
been  reverently  said,  and  all  were  seated  at 
their  frugal  meal,  "  are  you  not  going  to 
B this  afternoon  ?" 

"  Yes,  to  be  sure,  child,"  was  the  reply,  ut- 
tered in  a  rough  but  most  good-natured  tone ; 
"  do  you  young  lambkins  want  to  drive  there 
in  the  cart  ?" 

"No,  thank  you,"  exclaimed  both  children 
in  a  breath;  and  Robert  added,  ""We  only 
wished  to  be  quite  sure  you  would  not  miss 
us,  grandpa,  if  we  were  away,  because  we 
•  should  like  so  very  much  to  go  to  the  Land- 
slip, if  you  do  not  mind." 

"  Pray,  what  do  my  runaways  want  to  do 
in  the  Landslip?"  demanded  the  old  fisher- 
man, with  a  smile  which  plainly  showed  that 
the  young  petitioners  were  tolerably  sure  of 
his  consent  to  this,  or  any  other  scheme  of 
harmless  pleasure. 

"  I  will  tell  you,"  Agnes  answered  in  a  gen- 
tle voice ;  "  you  know,  grandpa,  that  to-mor- 
row will  be  Easter-Day.  Lady  Grace  Seldon 
and  Miss  Howard  were  at  the  school  this  morn- 
ing, and  they  asked  us  a  great  many  questions 
about  Lent,  and  why  the  Church  so  strictly 


EASTER   GARLANDS.  15 

calls  upon  us  to  observe  this,  aud  the  other 
solemn  seasons  appointed  in  the  Prayer-book ; 
and  then  Miss  Howard  spoke  of  Easter,  and 
said  how  very  happy  we  should  be  that  it  is  so 
near ;  and  just  before  they  left,  Lady  Grace 
read  aloud  a  most  beautiful  hymn,  which  she 
said  she  should  like  all  of  us  to  learn." 

"That  was  very  kind  of  Lady  Grace,  my 
darling,"  observed  the  old  man,  as  he  laid  his 
hand  fondly  upon  the  child's  bright  curls; 
"  only  I  do  not  quite  see  yet  why  this  should 
take  you  to  the  Landslip ;  unless  you  have  a 
fancy  for  studying  your  lessons  up  in  some 
pigeon's  nest  among  the  cliffs." 

""Well,  grandpa,"  exclaimed  Agnes,  when 
both  children  had  laughed  merrily  at  old 
David's  jest,  "  you  must  know  that  all  the 
ladies  are  to  be  very  busy  for  the  rest  of  the 
day  in  decorating  the  church ;  it  is  quite  full 
of  evergreens  already,  but  Miss  Howard  said 
there  should  be  flowers  too,  and  they  think 
they  can  collect  enough  from  the  gardens  and 
conservatories  to  till  a  large  basket  for  the 
chancel,  and  to  twine  around  the  railing  and 
the  base  of  the  font ;  only  -Miss  Howard  said 
that  it  was  a  great  privilege,  in  which  ALL, 
even  the  very  youngest,  should  be  allowed  to 
share;  and  then  she  turned  to  us,  and  said, 


16  EASTER   GARLANDS. 

'  Many  of  yon  little  ones  have  no  flowers  of 
yonr  own,  but  I  am  sure  your  parents  will  not 
refuse  to  give  yon  some  for  such  a  purpose.' " 

"  No,  indeed,"  exclaimed  the  old  man, 
warmly ;  "  take  every  one  you  can  find  in  our 
garden,  by  all  means  ;  but  go  on,  my  pet." 

"  I  knew  you  would  be  pleased  to  let  us 
have  them,"  replied  the  little  girl ;  "  but  Mary 
Miller  has  thought  of  something  we  can  do 
besides.  This  has  been  a  very  early  spring, 
and  there  are  already  many  wild-flowers  to  be 
found  in  sunny,  sheltered  places  in  the  Land- 
slip." 

"  Yes,"  interrupted  Robert  eagerly  ;  "  there 
are  daisies,  and  buttercups,  and  cowslips,  and 
periwinkles,  and  violets,  and  cuckoo-flowers, 
and  never  so  many  others." 

"  And,"  resumed  his  sister,  "  Mary  proposes 
that  we  should  all  go  and  gather  our  baskets 
full,  and  take  them  to  the  ladies ;  they  will 
keep  nicely  in  wet  sand  until  to-morrow,  just 
as  the  garden-flowers  do." 

"  Mary  Miller  is  a  thoughtful  girl,"  returned 
the  fisherman  ;  "  but,  children,  it  his  high  time 
we  were  away  ;  make  haste  and  get  me  all  the 
prettiest  blossoms  you  can  find,  and  I  will 
leave  them  for  you  at  the  church.  Now,  then, 
good-bye  till  seven." 


EASTER   GARLANDS.  17 

By  three  o'clock,  Robert  and  his  sister,  hav- 
ing finished  all  their  little  duties,  prepared  to 
set  out  upon  their  expedition.  Following  the 
course  of  the  sparkling  streamlet  that  ran 
foaming  and  glittering  through  the  chasm, 
they  soon  reached  the  head  of  the  romantic 
Chine ;  and  passing  the  solitary  watch-tower, 
they  paused  one  moment  to  look  back  upon 
the  richly  wooded  gorge  they  had  just  quitted, 
and  at  the  snow-white  Culver  cliffs  which  rose 
beyond,  and  then  rapidly  pursued  their  way 
across  the  breezy  downs,  and  through  a  nar- 
row lane,  bordered  by  hedges  of  hawthorn  and 
wild  brambles,  until  they  reached  a  low  stile, 
which  marked  the  entrance  to  the  Landslip. 

These  landslips  form  one  of  the  most  singu- 
lar and  interesting  features  in  the  scenery  of 
this  enchanting  isle.  Several  have  occurred 
from  time  to  time,  at  different  points  along  the 
southern  coast,  and  thus  the  UNDERCLIFF,  so 
rich  in  varied  and  peculiar  beauties,  sprang 
into  existence.  I  can  scarcely  explain  to  my 
young  readers  the  exact  nature  of  these  won- 
derful phenomena ;  but  they  are  strongly  cal- 
culated to  inspire  us  with  feelings  of  reverence 
and  awe  towards  the  great  and  all-holy  God, 
who  created  this  earth  on  which  we  dwell,  and 

all  the  countless  worlds  which  we  behold,  and 

20 


18  EASTER   GAKLANDS. 

whose  unerring  wisdom  guides  and  sustains 
them  in  their  course. 

But  an  overwhelming  sense  of  the  Al- 
mighty's power  is  far  from  being  the  only 
emotion  one  experiences  while  exploring  the 
strange,  wild  recesses  of  "East-End,"  as  the 
tract  of  ground  upon  which  the  children  had 
just  entered  is  sometimes  called  ;  for  although 
it  is  remarkable  for  its  desolate  and  gloomy 
grandeur,  yet  an  air  of  exquisite  and  luxuriant 
loveliness  is  imparted  by  the  endless  variety 
of  underwood  and  wild-flowers,  with  here  and 
there  a  graceful  mountain-ash,  springing  from 
a  cleft  or  crevice  in  some  mighty,  fallen  cliff; 
while  the  ivy  clothes  with  its  drapery  of  living 
green  many  a  huge,  disjointed  fragment  of 
dark  rock,  amid  which  innumerable  creepers 
twine  their  fantastic  garlands;  and  above 
frowns  the  stupendous  barrier  of  gray  cliffs, 
from  which  the  giant  masses  have  been  torn. 

It  is  this  desolate  but  most  romantic  tract, 
which  separates  the  Luccombe  Downs  from 

B .  A  winding  pathway  runs  through 

the  whole  extent,  and  the  view  from  certain 
points  is  truly  grand.  East-End  is  a  favorite 
resort  of  tourists,  and  very  many  have  climbed 
its  rocky  steeps,  and  gazed  with  rapt  delight 
upon  the  glorious  scene ;  but  few  or  none  have 


EASTEB   GARLAXDS.  19 

thoroughly  explored  the  hidden  dells  and  wild 
sequestered  nooks  which  Agnes  and  her  brother 
knew  so  well. 

Leaving  the  lower  range  of  cliffs,  which  rise 
abruptly  from  the  shore,  the  children  crossed 
the  visitor's  footpath,  and  hastily  began  the 
difficult  ascent  which  lay  before  them.  Up 
they  mounted,  higher  and  higher  yet,  until 
they  paused  quite  breathless  beneath  the 
shadow  of  the  tall,  gray  chain,  where  the 
kite  and  raven  made  their  home,  and  wheeled 
round  and  round  in  rapid  flight,  filling  the  air 
with  their  harsh,  yet  strangely  musical  notes. 

Amid  the  countless  lone  recesses  of  the 
Landslip  is  one  still  wilder  than  the  rest.  It 
is  a  deep,  secluded  dell,  almost  entirely  shut  in 
by  lofty  rocks — some  bare  and  rugged ;  others 
adorned  with  the  rich,  waving  tracery  of  climb- 
ing plants.  This  is  the  usual  meeting-place  of 
the  village  children,  and  on  the  afternoon  of 
which  I  speak  numbers  of  little  forms  were 
clustered  around  the  large,  smooth  stone  that 
formed  the  centre-table  of  their  sylvan  bower, 
awaiting  with  impatience  the  arrival  of  their 

friends  from  L ,  before  proceeding  to  the 

business  of  the  day. 

A  merry  shout  of  welcome  greeted  them  as 
they  approached,  for  owing  to  their  sweet, 


20  EASTER    GARLANDS. 

unselfish  tempers,  Agnes  and  Robert  were  uni- 
versal favorites.  A  few  pleasant  words  were 
interchanged,  and  soon  the  young  people  were 
scattered  among  the  sunny  knolls,  and  in  the 
glades  and  dingles,  seeking  for  the  bright 
treasures  of  the  joyous  spring. 

Sweet  and  most  highly  prized  those  treasures 
were ;  and  peals  of  ringing  laughter  mingled 
with  the  wild-bird's  song,  when  one  more  pre- 
cious than  the  rest  was  added  to  their  store. 
At  length  the  baskets  were  quite  laden  with 
the  spoil,  but  still  the  youthful  party  wandered 
on,  when  suddenly  a  cry  of  pleasure  broke 
from  the  lips  of  two  little  girls  who  had 
strayed  to  some  distance  from  their  compan- 
ions, and  reached  a  quiet,  sheltered  nook,  wa- 
tered by  a  clear,  crystal  stream ;  the  children 
were  kneeling  on  the  emerald  turf,  eagerly 
bending  over  some  plant  which  grew  upon  the 
margin  of  the  rill. 

"  What  is  it,  Nelly  ?"  inquired  Mary  Miller ; 
but  there  was  no  need  of  a  reply.  For,  lo ! 
the  greensward  of  that  fairy  dell  was  literally 
gemmed  with  tufts  of  primroses,  that  loveliest 
of  all  England's  wild-flowers,  the  pride  and 
ornament  of  the  dewy  glade.  One  basket  was 
filled  entirely  with  the  new-found  treasure, 
and  very  fair  did  the  soft,  pale-yellow  bios- 


EASTKIi    GARLANDS.  2* 

soms  look,  nestling  beneath  their  broad,  green 
leaves. 

"  Miss  Howard  will  be  surprised  to  find  the 
primroses  in  bloom  already,"  remarked  Agnes, 
while  her  dark  eyes  sparkled  with  delight  at 
the  thought  of  giving  pleasure  to  one  whom 
she  so  dearly  loved. 

"But  it  is  growing  late  now,"  observed 
Mary  Miller ;  "  should  we  not  all  think  of  re- 
turning home?" 

The  children  agreed  as  to  the  wisdom  of  the 
proposition ;  and  leaving  the  Landslip  with  re- 
luctance, they  walked  together  to  the  entrance 
of  the  village,  and  there,  intrusting  the  pre- 
cious baskets  to  the  care  of  Mary  and  her 
sisters,  who  lived  in  a  pretty  cottage  near  the 
church,  the  young  friends  separated,  with  the 
hope  of  again  meeting  ere  many  hours  should 
elapse. 

Easter-Day  rose  bright  and  clear;  and  the 
joyous  carol  of  the  wild-birds,  amid  the  leafy 
arches,  touched  a  chord  of  sympathetic  happi- 
ness in  many  a  youthful  heart.  While  yet  the 
sweet,  glad  music  of  the  church-bells  was  ring- 
ing on  the  morning  breeze,  the  long  train  of 
school  children,  with  Agnes  and  Robert  in 
their  midst,  wound  slowly  along  the  shaded 
pathway,  and  entered  beneath  the  low  Nor- 


22  EASTEK    GARLANDS. 

man  porch,  into  the  beautiful  church.  Very 
beautiful  it  was,  in  truth,  on  that  calm,  bright 
morning,  as  the  rich  sunlight  streamed  in 
through  the  painted  windows,  and  fell  with 
softened  lustre  upon  the  assembled  throng, 
casting  a  flood  of  gem-like  radiance  around 
the  lofty  arches,  and  illumining  the  "  darkly 
brilliant  evergreens,"  together  with  the  wreaths 
and  garlands  of  fair,  fragrant  flowers — meet 
offering  at  the  sacred  shrine ! 

And  then  the  full  tones  of  the  grand  organ 
pealed  through  the  aisles,  and  the  pure,  young 
voices  of  the  children  blended  in  sweet  har- 
mony with  those  of  the  elders  of  the  congre- 
gation, in  the  high  Easter  strain  of  triumph  : 

"  Christ,  our  passover,  is  sacrificed  for  us :  therefore 
let  us  keep  the  feast. 

"  Not  with  the  old  leaven ;  neither  with  the  leaven 
of  malice  and  wickedness :  but  with  the  unleavened 
bread  of  sincerity  and  truth. 

"  Christ  being  raised  from  the  dead,  dieth  no  more : 
death  hath  no  more  dominion  over  him. 

"  For  in  that  he  died,  he  died  unto  sin  once :  but  in 
that  he  liveth,  he  liveth  unto  God. 

"Likewise  reckon  ye  also  yourselves  to  be  dead  in- 
deed unto  sin:  but  alive  unto  God,  through  Jesus  Christ 
our  Lord. 

"  Christ  is  risen  from  the  dead :  and  become  the  first 
fruits  of  them  that  slept. 


EASTER   GARLANDS.  26 

"  For  since  by  man  came  death :  by  man  came  also 
the  resurrection  of  the  dead. 

"  For  as  in  Adam  all  die :  even  so  in  Christ  shall  all 
be  made  alive. 

"  Glory  be  to  the  Father,  and  to  the  Son :  and  to  the 
Holy  Ghost : 

u  As  it  was  in  the  beginning,  is  now  and  ever  shall 
be :  world  without  end.  Amen." 

I  have  copied  this  beautiful  anthem,  in  full, 
from  the  English  Prayer-book,  for  my  young 
friends  in  America ;  not  that  I  fancy  it  is  not 
already  known  to  all  who  have  enjoyed  the 
privilege  of  being  early  admitted  "into  the 
fellowship  of  Christ's  religion  ;"  but  simply 
because  I  hope  that  by  thus  accustoming  our- 
selves to  observe  the  close  similarity  which 
exists  between  our  ritual  and  that  in  use  among 
our  brethren  in  distant  lands,  we  may  all  learn 
daily  more  perfectly  to  feel  tha,t  we  are  indeed 
ONE  with  them;  and  to  realize  the  blessed 
truth,  from  infancy  familiar  to  our  lips,  that 
"  the  Holy  Church  throughout  all  the  world" 
must  ever  be  the  same. 

The  early  hours  of  that  Easter-Day  were  not 
more  peaceful  than  its  close.  When  the  Even- 
ing Service  was  concluded,  Agnes  and  her 
brother  accompanied  their  young  companions 


24:  EASTEK   GARLANDS. 

to  the  school-house,  as  was  their  usual  custom ; 
and  immediately  upon  being  dismissed,  they 
hastened  down  the  valley  to  meet  their  grand- 
father, whom  they  found  seated  on  the  mossed 
stone-wall,  beneath  the  canopy  of  elm-trees, 
watching  the  graceful  motions  of  two  stately 
swans,  as  they  floated  on  the  surface  of  the 
shadowy  pool  which  bordered  the  highway, 
or  from  time  to  time  were  almost  lost  to  view 
amid  the  overhanging  foliage,  which  fringed 
the  sloping  bank  beyond. 

"  Children,"  said  old  David,  as  his  little  ones 
drew  near,  "  I  have  been  thinking  whether  we 
might  not  walk  across  the  downs  to  "Wroxall ; 
I  heard  yesterday  that  poor  Johnny  Allan  is 
much  worse,  and  perhaps  there  may  be  some- 
thing we  can  do  to  help  him." 

"Let  us  go  at  once,  grandpa,"  exclaimed 
Robert,  springing  from  his  seat ;  but  Agnes 
said,  in  a  tone  of  hesitation :  "  I  should  like 
very  much  to  see  poor  Johnny,  grandpa,  but 
wre  walked  so  far  yesterday  that  I  feel  quite 
tired.  Might  I  not  stay  quietly  in  the  church- 
yard until  you  come  back  ?" 

"  By  all  means,  if  you  please,  my  dear,"  was 
the  reply ;  "  only  we  may,  perhaps,  be  late, 
and  if  so,  I  will  call  for  you  at  Mary  Miller's." 

With   this   understanding,   David   and    his 


EASTER  GARLANDS.  25 

grandson  went  their  way.  Left  alone,  Agnes 
waited  until  their  forms  had  disappeared  along 
the  winding  road,  and  then  slowly  retraced 
her  steps  towards  the  now  almost-deserted 
church-yard.  She  was  a  singularly  thought- 
ful child,  and  many  were  the  hours  which  she 
had  passed  within  these  sacred  precincts — 
sometimes  entirely  alone,  or  with  only  a  book 
as  a  companion ;  at  others,  engaged  in  pleas- 
ant conversation  with  her  darling  brother, 
from  whom  she  had  never  in  her  life  been  long 
separated. 

Agnes  did  not  on  this  afternoon  wander 
among  the  tombstones,  as  was  frequently  her 
habit,  but  leaning  for  support  against  a  pile 
of  rocks,  completely  festooned  with  ivy  and 
the  wild  clematis,  she  stood  watching  the  de- 
clining sun,  whose  last  rays  seemed  to  shed  a 
halo  around  the  little  church ;  while  the  lofty 
hills,  which  rose  immediately  in  its  rear,  were 
bathed  in  the  rich,  golden  glow,  and  a  faint, 
rosy  light  was  cast  upon  the  distant  sea. 

"  I  thought  I  saw  you  follow  this  footpath," 
observed  a  gentle  voice ;  and,  turning  quickly, 
Agnes  beheld  Miss  Howard  by  her  side. 

"  I  wished  to  thank  you  and  your  compan- 
ions," continued  the  lady,  "  for  having  so  suc- 
cessfully aided  in  our  work." 

3 


26  EASTEJR    GARLANDS. 

"  It  pleased  us  to  do  it,  ma'am,"  replied  the 
little  girl,  much,  gratified  by  her  kind  friend's 
commendation. 

"  This  has  been  a  happy  day,  my  child,  has 
it  not?"  resumed  Miss  Howard,  after  a  mo- 
ment's silence. 

"  Yes,  very  happy,"  answered  Agnes  ;  "  only 
— "  the  last  word  had  been  involuntarily  ut- 
tered. She  stopped,  and  seemed  unwilling  to 
proceed. 

"  Only  what  ?"  demanded  her  companion, 
kindly ;  "  has  any  thing  gone  wrong  with  you, 
my  dear?"  Do  not  be  afraid  to  tell  me,  for 
perhaps  we  may  find  means  of  bringing  mat- 
ters riffht." 

O 

"  O  no,  ma'am,  nothing  is  amiss  !"  exclaimed 
Agnes,  quickly.  "  I  was  only  going  to  say," 
she  added,  in  a  lower  tone,  "  that  I  hope  to  be 
much  happier  before  many  Easters  pass.  Is 
it  wrong  to  think  of  that,  Miss  Howard,  now 
while  I  am  so  very  young  ?" 

They  had  wandered  on  while  speaking,  and 
had  reached  the  most  retired  corner  of  the 
church-yard,  where,  overshadowed  by  the  sil- 
very foliage  of  a  drooping  willow,  a  monu- 
ment of  purest  marble  had  been  lately  raised, 
in  memory  of  one  whose  name  was  yet  fondly 
cherished  in  the  homes  of  B ,  a  sweet,  en- 


EASTER   GARLANDS.  27 

gaging  child  of  tender  years,  the  heiress  of  one 
of  the  most  noble  and  influential  families  in  the 
parish.  The  design  was  touching,  from  its  ex- 
treme simplicity — a  cross,  surmounted  by  a 
snow-white  dove,  most  exquisitely  wrought. 
The  idea  had  been  taken  from  the  writings  of 
an  English  clergyman,  with  whose  beautiful 
allegories  all  my  readers  will,  I  trust,  be  one 
day  familiar. 

"Lady  Eveline  Villiers  was  not  so  old  as 
you  are,"  observed  Miss  Howard,  as  she  rev- 
erently sprinkled  a  shower  of  pale,  starry  prim- 
roses upon  the  little  grave;  "and  there  are 
others  here  who,  at  a  yet  earlier  age,  were 
taken  to  their  rest.  No !  we  cannot  think  too 
often  of  the  glory,  and  all-perfect  blessedness 
of  the  Resurrection ;  and  while  earnestly  striv- 
ing, through  God's  grace,  to  fulfil  to  the  utter- 
most every  duty  required  of  us  on  earth,  we 
are  yet  permitted  to  rejoice  in  the  conscious- 
ness that  our  sojourn  here  will  be  but  for  a 
little  season." 

"Very  short,  indeed,  it  may  be,"  rejoined 
Agnes,  as  she  gazed  thoughtfully  upon  the 
sculptured  marble;  "but  I  di4  not  speak  of 
dying  then."  she  added,  with  characteristic 
truthfulness,  unwilling  to  convey  a  false  im- 
pression to  another's  mind. 


28  EASTEK   GARLANDS. 

"And  of  what  then,  dear  child?"  inquired 
Miss  Howard,  in  a  sympathizing  tone. 

Agnes  hesitated,  and  the  color  mounted  to 
her  cheek ;  it  was  an  effort  to  express  her  se- 
cret feelings,  but  she  felt  instinctively  that  she 
was  in  the  presence  of  one  by  whom  all  her 
holiest  aspirations  would  be  understood. 

"  When  I  am  older,"  she  began,  while  her 
voice  trembled  and  her  eyes  filled  with  tears, 
"it  will  be  different;  I  shall  not  always  be 
obliged  to  leave  the  church." 

Miss  Howard  comprehended  in  an  instant. 

"That  should,  indeed,  be  our  childhood's 
earnest  wish,  my  love,"  she  answered,  in  a 
voice  of  feeling.  "  You  have  already  been 
made  by  Baptism  a  member  of  the  Church. 
God  grant  that  at  no  very  distant  day  you 
may  be  admitted  to  the  full  enjoyment  of  all 
her  highest  privileges." 

Long  did  the  lady  and  her  young  companion 
linger  in  the  quiet  church-yard.  Neither  felt 
inclined  for  further  conversation  ;  the  heart  of 
one  was  raised  in  earnest  prayer,  in  behalf  of 
the  youthful  beings  to  whose  welfare  so  large 
a  portion  of  her  time  and  talents  were  de- 
voted ;  and  Agnes  was  musing  on  Miss  How- 
ard's words. 

"It  may  be  very  soon,"  she  whispered,  when 


EASTER   GARLANDS.  29 

at  length  they  left  the  tombstone,  and  slowly 
winding  up  the  hill,  paused  for  an  instant  on 
its  summit,  to  take  one  last  look  at  the  little 
church  so  tranquilly  reposing  in  the  valley, 
beneath  the  shelter  of  the  purple,  shadowy 
downs.  A  sweet  smile  brightened  Miss  How- 
ard's face,  as  she  fondly  clasped  the  little  hand 
she  held  in  hers,  and  Agnes  felt  content,  al- 
though no  word  was  spoken. 

Two  years  passed  swiftly  by ;  and  then  once 
more  a  cloudless  Easter  dawned.  One  fort- 
night only  had  elapsed  since  Agnes  stood  be- 
fore the  altar  to  renew  her  baptismal  vow,  in 
the  solemn  rite  of  Confirmation ;  and  now  she 
knelt  between  Miss  Howard  and  her  aged 
grandfather,  to  join  in  a  yet  holier  service. 
She  was  happy  then — quietly  and  serenely 
happy ;  the  period  to  which  she  had  so  long 
and  anxiously  looked  forward  had  arrived, — 
the  day  of  her  first  Communion. 

"  I  almost  envied  you  this  morning,  Agnes," 
observed  Robert,  after  they  had  left  the 
church,  and  walked  some  way  in  silence. 

"  May  I  say  so  to  Miss  Howard  2"  inquired 
Agnes,  eagerly ;  "  or  should  you  rather  speak, 
instead,  to  Mr.  Mordaunt  ?" 

Robert  shook  his  head. 

"  I  do  not  feel  so  always,"  he  answered, 
30 


30  EASTEK   GAKLANDS. 

* 

sadly ;  "  and  I  fear  that  Mr.  Mordaunt  would 
say  I  am  too  young." 

"  Mr.  Mordaunt  said  to  me,"  replied  his  sis- 
ter, timidly,  "  that  it  is  a  great  advantage  to 
think  of  our  Confirmation  for  at  least  a  year 
beforehand,  and  by  that  time,  Bertie,  you  will 
be  as  old  as  I  am.  I  feel  now  as  though  that 
were  my  only  wish,"  she  added,  laying  her 
hand  affectionately  on  his  arm. 

"I  shall  like  to  look  forward  to  it,  at  all 
events,"'  returned  Robert ;  "  and  Agnes,  it 
would  please  me  to  hear  all  that  Mr.  Mor- 
daunt said  to  you  and  Mary  Miller,  and  the 
others,  when  you  were  at  the  rectory,  and  to 
read  the  little  books  Miss  Howard  gave  you. 
Only  do  not  mention  it  just  yet  to  any  one  but 
grandpa,  please,"  he  continued,  hastily,  as  they 
reached  the  termination  of  their  walk. 

Nothing  further  passed  that  morning  on  the 
subject  between  Agnes  and  her  brother  ;  but 
in  the  course  of  a  few  weeks  Robert,  with  his 
grandfather's  approval,  and  to  the  great  joy  of 
Agnes,  gained  courage  to  converse  freely  with 
his  kind  friend,  Mr.  Mordaunt,  and  was  by 
him  admitted  to  the  number  of  the  candidates 
for  Confirmation,  for  the  ensuing  year. 


THE 


"  The  briefer  life, 
The  earlier  immortality." 

BOUT  seven  miles  to  the  west  of 

B ,  there  is  a  tract  of  country 

remarkable  for  its  desolate  and 
dreary  aspect.  It  consists,  for 
the  most  part,  of  bleak,  solitary 
moors,  sprinkled  here  and  there 
with  patches  of  wild  brambles,  heather,  and 
the  prickly-gorse,  and  interspersed  with  frag- 
ments of  gray,  fallen  rocks,  piled  in  an  infinite 
variety  of  fantastic  forms,  which,  by  the  aid  of 
imagination,  may  be  readily  converted  into 
shattered  columns,  pinnacles,  and  towers,  to 
which  indeed,  in  some  instances,  they  bear  a 
rude  resemblance. 

The  character  of  the  scenery  is  perpetually 
changing ;  for  the  LANDSLIPS,  to  which  I  have 
before  alluded,  are  of  frequent  recurrence  in 
this  locality,  and  the  firm  foundations  of  the 


32  THE   LITTLE   ZOOPHYTE   GATHEKEKS. 

mighty  wall  of  cliffs  that  bounds  the  valley 
are  gradually,  but  surely,  becoming  under- 
mined. Among  the  deep  sequestered  gorges 
of  the  hills,  an  isolated  farm-house  or  a  tiny 
hamlet  may  be  sometimes  seen,  all  smiling 
with  that  peculiar  gleam  of  true  home-com- 
fort, for  which  England  and  America  are  alike 
distinguished.  There  are  also  little  fishing 
settlements  along  the  shore ;  and,  from  time  to 
time,  an  ancient  ivy-mantled  church,  of  simple 
but  imposing  aspect,  meets  the  view  ;  its  lowly 
porch,  surmounted  by  a  stone  cross,  rudely 
carved ;  while  from  its  hoary  tower  the  sooth- 
ing, solemn  music  of  the  chimes  rings  out  to 
the  hoarse  murmur  of  the  sea. 

Near  such  a  church  as  I  have  just  described, 
are  situated  the  remote  but  picturesque  village 
of  Blackgang  and  its  adjacent  chine,  which 
latter  forms  the  western  termination  of  the 
Undercliif,  or  at  least  of  its  most  interesting 
features.  It  is  the  chosen  retreat  of  such  vis- 
itors as  delight  in  the  gloomy  and  sublime  in 
nature,  rather  than  the  beautiful.  The  con- 
trast which  this  chine  presents  to  that  of  Lnc- 
combe,  so  rich  in  glimpses  of  luxuriant  loveli- 
ness, is  striking  in  the  extreme :  here  all  is 

'  O 

wild  and  savage  grandeur ;  the  tall,  bare  rocks 
stand  black  and  grim,  guarding  the  narrow 


THK   LTTTLK   ZOOI'lIYTK   GATHERERS.  33 

pass;  and  the  very  rivulet  which  trickles 
through  the  defile  is  not  pure  and  sparkling  like 
most  mountain  streams,  but  wears  a  sombre, 
yellowish  hue,  imparted  doubtless  by  the  iron- 
ore  which  abounds  in  the  surrounding  crags. 

There  are  some  pleasant  homes,  however,  in 
this  lonely  spot ;  and  very  lovely  do  they  look, 
standing  in  the  midst  of  their  neat  and  well- 
kept  gardens,  the  bloom  and  fertility  of  which 
contrast  so  singularly  with  the  encircling  waste. 

In  a  private  drawing-room  of  the  romantic 
little  inn,  three  ladies  were  seated  around  a 
work-table,  which  stood  in  the  recess  of  a  deep 
bay-casement  that  overlooked  the  blue  ocean, 
with  its  long  line  of  rocky  coast ;  while  in  the 
far  distance  was  visible  the  bold  outline  of  a 
magnificent  range  of  chalk-cliffs,  whose  lofty 
pinnacles  glittered  like  snow  beneath  the 
sparkling  rays  of  a  summer's  sun. 

"  The  snow-white  cliffs  of  England,  which  I 
have  so  very  often  longed  to  see !"  exclaimed 
the  youngest  of  the  party,  a  sweet  and  gentle- 
looking  girl  of  about  sixteen,  as,  with  a  half 
sigh,  she  laid  aside  her  pencils,  and  stood  be- 
side the  window,  gazing  thoughtfully  upon  the 
glorious  panorama. 

"  Grace  is  home-sick  already,  I  suspect,"  ob- 
served her  sister  Helen,  laughing. 


34     THE  LITTLE  ZOOPHYTE  GATHERERS. 

"  I  was  only  thinking  of  papa,"  said  Grace ; 
"  and  wishing  that  he  and  all  our  dear  friends 
at  home  were  with  us  to  share  in  the  delight 
of  this  first  visit  to  the  shores  of  England." 

"  I  fancy  that  will  scarcely  be  required,  my 
love,"  remarked  Mrs.  Melville ;  "  at  least,  if 
all  your  epistles  are  to  be  like  the  one  which 
you  sent  off  this  morning." 

"You  know  that  I  intend  to  keep  a  journal 
for  papa,"  said  Grace ;  "  and  I  fear  many  of 
my  letters  will  be  still  longer  than  this  first 
one  ;  but  even  that  is  not  quite  like  being  with 
one's  friends,  for  writing  can  never  take  the 
place  of  conversation." 

"  ]S"o,  indeed ;  one  feels  the  difference  sadly. 
Still  we  should  try  to  make  the  most  of  those 
blessings  which  are  within  our  reach ;  and  I 
did  not  expect  YOU  would  feel  lonely  here  in 
England,  Grace." 

"  I  am  not  lonely,  I  assure  you,  dear  mam- 
ma. How  could  I  be  with  you  and  Helen, 
and  surrounded,  too,  by  so  many  in  whom  we 
take  an  interest  ?" 

"The  whole  population  here,  I  imagine," 
interrupted  Helen  ;  "  or,  at  all  events,  a  large 
proportion.  Do  you  know,  mamma,  that  yes- 
terday, in  church,  I  quite  realized  the  feeling 
which  appears  to  afford  you  and  Grace  such 


THE   LITTLK   ZOOPHYTE   GATHERERS.  35 

peculiar  satisfaction  ;  it  did  seem  as  though  we 
were  brought  nearer  to  our  distant  friends. 
Yes;  our  Liturgy  is  undoubtedly  a  bond  of 
union,  and  a  strong  one." 

"  I  am  truly  glad  to  hear  you  say  so,  my 
love ;  and  when  that  which  is  now  a  mere 
transitory  emotion  shall  have  become  a  fixed 
and  abiding  principle  of  action,  I  think  I  can 
venture  to  affirm  that  you  will  find  a  vast  in- 
crease of  happiness  in  daily  life." 

The  deep-toned  bells  of  the  old  church  were 
faintly  heard. 

"Eleven!  Can  it  be  possible?"  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Melville,  looking  at  her  watch.  "My 
dear  children,  we  must  decide  upon  our  excur- 
sion without  delay." 

"  It  is  too  late  for  Carisbuke,  mamma,"  said 
Helen ;  "  let  us  go  there  to-morrow  instead, 
and  leave  here  by  nine,  so  as  to  have  plenty  of 
time  for  wandering  among  the  ruins." 

"Yes,  perhaps  that  will  be  best,"  replied 
her  mother ;  "  but  where,  then,  shall  we  go 
to-day?" 

"  Indeed,  I  hardly  know,  mamma ;  for  there 
is  so  much  of  interest  to  be  seen  on  every  side, 
that  one  is  really  at  a  loss  which  way  to  turn. 
"What  should  you  say  to  a  drive  along  the  Un- 
dercliff,  with  no  especial  object  in  view,  ex- 


36     THE  LITTLE  ZOOPHYTE  GATHEEEES. 

cept  to  explore  wherever  we  may  chance  to 
wish  ?" 

"  That  will  do  admirably  well,  I  think ;  so 
Grace,  my  love,  will  you  just  ring  the  bell? 
I  should  like  the  carriage  to  be  brought  round 
immediately." 

Generally  speaking,  Grace  Melville  would 
have  been  delighted  at  the  prospect  of  such  an 
expedition  as  the  one  proposed,  but  upon  this 
occasion  she  had  a  fancy  for  a  ramble  on  the 
shore ;  Helen  and  her  mother  being  invalids, 
would  not  be  able  to  participate  in  this  amuse- 
ment, and  as  it  seemed  probable  that  every 
day  of  their  short  sojourn  in  the  village  would 
be  fully  taken  up  with  sight-seeing,  she  deter- 
mined, should  nothing  prevent,  to  improve 
the  present  opportunity,  perhaps  the  only  one 
she  should  ever  have. 

"  If  you  and  Helen  do  not  mind,  mamma," 
she  answered,  "  I  believe  I  shall  leave  you  to 
your  own  devices,  just  for  once,  and  wander 
off  among  the  cliffs.  One  loses  so  much  pleas- 
ure in  a  carriage!" 

"  Well,  my  dear,  I  see  no  possible  objection, 
except  that  Helen  and  I  shall  be  sure  to  miss 
you  sadly;  but  you  had  best  consider  for  a 
moment.  You  know  that  we  expect  to  leave 
for  Devonshire  next  week,  therefore  you  may 


THE   LITTLE   ZOOPHYTE   GATHEKER8.  37 

lose  the  opportunity  of  seeing  something  that 
you  will  afterwards  regret." 

"  Only  no  one  can  tell  ine  exactly  what," 
returned  Grace,  laughing ;  "  so,  dear  mamma, 
I  am  quite  content  to  run  the  risk ;  and  now  I 
will  give  orders  for  the  carriage,  while  you 
and  Helen  are  putting  on  your  bonnets.'1 

"  Do  not  forget  to  ask  for  a  basket  of  sand- 
wiches and  cakes,"  said  Helen,  turning  back, 
as  she  was  about  to  leave  the  room. 

"  And  Grace,  dear,  please  say  we  should  like 
tea  at  seven,  with  a  roast  chicken  and  a  plate 
of  muffins,"  added  Mrs.  Melville. 

"I  will  attend  to  every  thing,  mamma," 
Grace  answered,  as  the  tidy  maid-servant  came 
into  the  room. 

"Thank  you,  my  love;  do  not  fail  to  provide 
some  luncheon  for  yourself,  and  pray  be  here 
punctually  by  half-past  six ;  and,  above  all,  be 
particularly  careful  how  you  venture  among 
those  frightful  precipices." 

Grace  promised  obedience  ;  and  then  having 
given  the  necessary  directions,  she  followed  her 
mother  and  sister  to  their  apartment. 

The  two  elder  ladies  were  soon  equipped  in 
readiness  for  their  drive,  and  Grace  having 
seen  them  comfortably  established  in  the  car- 
riage, returned  for  her  supply  of  luncheon,  and 

4 


38     THE  LITTLE  ZOOPHYTE  GATHEEEES. 

a  sketch-book.  She  was  naturally  quick  in 
all  her  movements,  so  before  ten  minutes  had 
elapsed  all  preparations  were  complete,  and 
she  was  on  her  way. 

"Miss  Melville!"  exclaimed  the  good  old 
landlady,  as  Grace  passed  her  in  the  verandah, 
"  can  you  really  be  going  for  a  walk  at  this 
hour?" 

With  a  look  of  surprise  at  the  question, 
Grace  replied  in  the  affirmative. 

"  It  is  so  very  warm,"  pursued  Mrs.  Morris ; 
"  I  am  sure  you  will  find  it  too  oppressive  to 
go  far." 

Grace  could  not  repress  a  smile.  It  was 
August,  to  be  sure,  yet  the  heat  was  any  thing 
but  overpowering,  according  to  her  American 
ideas. 

"  You  forget  that  I  am  accustomed  to  a 
much  warmer  climate,"  she  replied.  "  In  my 
opinion  this  is  only  mild  and  pleasantjveather. 
Indeed,  I  am  not  sure  that  a  few  degrees  more 
of  heat  would  not  be  quite  acceptable." 

Poor  Mrs.  Morris,  who  was  already  over- 
come, or  "  greatly  exhausted,"  to  use  her  own 
expression,  drew  back  within  the  shadow  of 
the  porch,  and  watched,  with  unfeigned  aston- 
ishment, while  Grace  tranquilly  pursued  her 
way  along  the  sunny  gravel-walk ;  and  when 


THE   LITTLE   ZOOPIIYTE   GATHERERS.  39 

the  slight  form  was  quite  lost  to  view,  she 
turned,  with  languid  steps,  to  superintend  the 
operations  in  her  dairy. 

Grace,  in  the  mean  time,  having  crossed  the 
down,  soon  found  herself  at  the  entrance  of 
the  chine.  The  winding  pathway  was  not  dif- 
ficult at  first,  and  she  did  not  require  to  make 
use  of  the  strong  rope  which  had  been  placed 
as  a  support  on  either  side ;  but  the  latter  part 
was  far  less  easy.  Grace  stopped  to  rest  for  a 
few  moments  before  attempting  to  proceed ; 
and  then  clinging  with  all  her  strength  to  the 
supporting  rope,  she  slowly  made  her  way 
down  the  steep  rock-hewn  steps,  breasting  the 
high  winds  that  came  sweeping  up  the  chasm 
from  the  restless,  agitated  surface  of  the  ocean. 

It  was  a  grand  scene,  when  she  had  reached 
the  shining,  yellow  sands,  and  looked  out  over 
the  heaving  billows  and  around  upon  the  rug- 
ged, barren  cliffs,  which  frowned  along  the 
coast.  She  had  always  had  a  passion  for  rock- 
scenery,  and  here  there  was  ample  room  for 
the  gratification  of  her  taste.  Upon  a  project- 
ing platform,  slightly  elevated  above  the  shore, 
stood  a  tiny  cottage,  plain  and  completely  un- 
adorned in  its  exterior,  but  deriving  a  certain 
charm  from  the  singularity  of  its  situation.  In 
her  eagerness  to  gain  the  beach,  Grace  had 


40     THE  LITTLE  ZOOPHYTE  GATHERERS. 

scarcely  noticed  it  in  her  descent j  but  now 
feeling  very  thirsty,  she  resolved  upon  apply- 
ing there  for  a  glass  of  water. 

A  small  table  stood  in  front  of  the  house, 
containing  a  number  of  fossil  remains  and 
specimens  of  minerals,  together  with  a  basin 
of  salt-water,  in  which  were  floating  several 
of  the  rare  and  beautiful  zoophytes,  or  marine 
animals,  which  abound  in  this  locality.  Over 
the  door  was  an  inscription,  stating  this  to  be 
the  site  of  an  "  Aluminous  Chalybeate  Spring," 
which  had  been  discovered  some  years  pre- 
viously by  a  celebrated  physician.  Grace  was 
acquainted  with  the  reputation  of  this  spring, 
and  she  was  also  aware  that  large  quantities 
of  the  water  had  been  exported  to  the  Crimea, 
where  it  had  proved  of  great  service  to  Miss 
Nightingale,  in  the  prosecution  of  her  invalu- 
able labors  among  the  sick  and  suffering. 

A  little  girl,  apparently  some  seven  or  eight 
years  old,  came  out  in  reply  to  Grace's  sum- 
mons ;  and,  on  being  asked  for  a  glass  of  water, 
she  speedily  produced  a  tumbler  filled  with  a 
deep  yellowish  fluid,  which,  however  cold  and 
pure  it  might  be,  was  certainly  not  inviting  to 
the  eye. 

"  The  mineral  water,  I  suppose,"  said  Grace, 
as  she  received  it  from  her  hand. 


THE   LJTTLK   ZOOPHYTE   GATHERERS.  41 

The  child  replied  in  the  affirmative. 

"  I  am  a  little  afraid  to  try  it,  lest  it  should 
do  me  harm,"  continued  Grace;  "for  I  am 
quite  well,  and  do  not  stand  in  need  of  tonics. 
Might  I  not  ask  you  for  some  of  the  ordinary 
water,  such  as  you  use  yourselves  ?" 

"There  is  no  other  here,  Miss,"  said  the 
child.  "We  always  use  this,  even  for  our  tea, 
and  it  never  injures  any  of  us;  and  visitors, 
generally,  consider  it  very  strengthening." 

Still  Grace  was  resolute.  Having  seen  so 
much  of  illness  from  her  childhood,  she  had 
gradually  acquired  an  almost  nervous  dread 
of  doing  any  thing  which  was  likely  to  impair 
her  naturally  vigorous  constitution.  Yery  pos- 
sibly a  draught  from  these  cool  mineral  springs 
might  have  a  contrary  effect,  but  it  was  an 
EXPERIMENT,  at  all  events,  and  she  had  the 
good  sense  to  avoid  all  such  unnecessary  risks. 
The  appearance  of  the  child,  too,  tended  only 
to  confirm  her  resolution,  for  she  was  very  pale 
and  fragile,  bearing  no  trace  whatever  of  the 
pure  rose-bloom,  which  is  so  peculiarly  charac- 
teristic of  most  English  children. 

But  Grace  still  suffered  painfully  from 
thirst ;  and  determined  not  to  be  discouraged, 
she  made  another  effort. 

"  I  have  been  told  that  there  is  a  waterfall 
40 


4:2  THE   LITTLE   ZOOPHYTE   GATHERERS. 

somewhere  in  this  chine.  Might  I  not  fill  a 
tumbler  there,  or  is  it  iron- water  like  the  well  ?" 

"No,  Miss,  it  is  not  iron-water,"  replied  the 
little  girl ;  "  but  it  has  not  rained  for  several 
days,  and  I  do  not  believe  there  will  be  enough 
to  fill  your  glass ;  however,  if  you  please,  I 
will  go  and  try,"  she  added,  in  an  obliging 
tone. 

Grace  followed,  without  precisely  compre- 
hending the  last  remark ;  but  she  was  not  left 
long  in  doubt,  for  upon  turning  an  angle  of 
the  rock,  she  found  herself  in  a  gloomy  hollow, 
shut  in  by  towering  crags,  down  the  face  of 
which  streamed  a  tiny  rill  that  fell,  drop  by 
drop,  at  intervals,  into  the  stony  basin  below. 
Grace  smiled,  as  she  recalled  Niagara  and 
Trenton ;  and  still  more,  when  she  compared 
this  with  the  foaming  cataract  depicted  in  the 
guide-book :  but,  perhaps,  it  might  really  be 
BO  in  winter,  after  heavy  storms  ;  and,  at  all 
events,  she  was  not  inclined  to  criticise,  in  the 
midst  of  the  sublime  works  of  God ;  so  she 
merely  thanked  her  little  guide  for  having 
shown  her  "  the  waterfall."  And  then,  as  they 
stood  once  more  before  the  cottage,  she  began 
examining  the  zoophytes,  and  asking  questions 
relative  to  their  nature  and  habits. 

"  This  is  a  sea-anemone,  if  you  please,  Miss," 


SEA-ANEMONE. 

Isle  of  Wight  Stories. 


THE  LITTLE  ZOOPHYTE  OATHEEEE8.     43 

said  the  child ;  "  and,"  she  continued,  pointing 
to  a  beautiful  creature,  with  a  skin  as  smooth 
as  velvet,  and  covered  with  bright  crimson 
spots,  "  that  is  a  strawberry-plant." 

At  this  moment  -the  "strawberry-plant," 
which  had  before  been  curled  up  into  a  small 
round  ball,  slowly  unrolled  itself,  and  displayed 
to  Grace's  eyes  a  rich  and  pleasing  variety  of 
design  and  coloring. 

"They  do  so  often  of  a  morning,  when  I 
change  their  water,"  remarked  little  Maggie 
Wilson ;  "  and  some  of  them  are  a  great  deal 
prettier  than  this  one." 

"  And  where  do  you  go  to  look  for  them  ?" 
inquired  Grace. 

"All  along  the  shore,  Miss,"  replied  the 
child ;  ''but  the  finest  we  get  are  from  Rocken- 
End.  I  am  going  there  this  afternoon,  with 
Ned  and  Johnny  Dawson,  and  Mary,  and  Fan- 
ny, and  Martha  Blake." 

"  And  is  it  very  far  from  here  ?" 

"  No,  Miss ;  it  is  not  much  more  than  a 
mile." 

"  "Well,  Maggie,"  resumed  Grace,  "  I  should 
like  to  go  with  you,  if  you  do  not  mind,  for  I 
have  a  great  curiosity  to  know  more  of  zo- 
ophytes. I  have  never  seen  them  before,  ex- 
cept in  an  aquarium,  which  is  a  large  glass 


44  THE   LITTLE   ZOOPHYTE    GATHERERS. 

vessel,  fitted  up  for  their  accommodation.  It 
is  now  just  half-past  one — shall  you  be  ready 
to  set  out  by  two  ?" 

The  child  assured  her  that  there  would  be 
nothing  to  prevent,  as  she  expected  her  com- 
panions every  moment ;  and  having  promised 
to  return  very  shortly,  Grace  retraced  her 
steps  towards  the  inn,  for  the  twofold  purpose 
of  indulging  in  a  draught  of  water,  and  of 
adding  a  sponge-cake  and  some  raspberry-tarts 
to  her  store,  since  there  was  no  pastry-cook  in 
the  village.  Then,  after  filling  a  smaller  basket 
with  ripe,  delicious  gooseberries,  she  once  more 
left  the  house,  this  time  well  laden ;  and  upon 
arriving  at  the  cottage,  she  found  the  children 
grouped  upon  the  platform,  and  the  two  little 
boys  eager  to  relieve  her  of  her  burden,  to 
which  she  smilingly  assented,  only  reserving 
the  precious  sketch-book,  which  she  carried 
carefully  in  her  hand. 

It  was  a  happy  party  on  the  whole ;  for  the 
slight  feeling  of  constraint,  which  the  presence 
of  a  lady  and  a  stranger  unavoidably  occa- 
sioned, was  soon  totally  dispelled  by  the  genu- 
ine warmth  and  kindliness  of  Grace's  manner. 
She  was  naturally  fond  of  children ;  and,  of 
late,  she  had  learned  to  feel  a  deep  and  almost 
painful  interest  in  those  who  were  passing 


THt  LITTLE  ZOOPHYTE  GATHERERS.     45 

through  that  season  fraught  with  "  so  many 
and  great  dangers,"  in  the  midst  of  which  she 
had  been  mercifully  preserved.  It  was  now  a 
year  since  she  had  been  admitted  into  the  full 
communion  of  the  Christian  Church.  Life  had 
thenceforth  assumed,  in  her  eyes,  a  far  more 
serious  and  awful  aspect;  and  short  though 
her  experience  had  been,  Grace  longed,  with 
an  earnestness  too  deep  for  words,  that  it  were 
in  her  power  to  impart  to  others  a  perception 
as  vivid  as  her  own  of  the  vast  importance, 
one  might  well  add  the  DIGNITY,  of  a  child's 
existence. 

How  often  while  laboring,  through  God's 
grace,  to  prepare  her  heart  for  the  solemn  rite 
of  Confirmation,  and  the  high  and  holy  Sacra- 
ment in  which  she  would  afterwards  be  allowed 
to  join,  had  she  mourned  over  those  innumer- 
able offences,  all  trivial,  it  might  be,  in  the 
world's  eye,  but  grievous,  as  she  then  in  some 
measure  realized,  in  the  sight  of  Him,  "  before 
whom  the  very  heavens  are  not  clean."  Pride 
and  selfishness  had  beset  her;  indolence  and 
vanity ;  disobedience  to  her  earthly  parents ; 
and — saddest  thought  of  all — irreverence  to- 
wards that  Almighty  God,  before  whose  throne 
the  blessed  angels  fall  in  humblest  adoration  ; 
coldness,  too,  and  want  of  love  for  Him,  that 


46  THE    LITTLE    ZOOPHYTE    GATHERERS. 

gracious  and  compassionate  Redeemer,  who 
had  deigned  to  receive  her  in  the  arms  of 
mercy,  while  yet  a  feeble  and  unconscious  in- 
fant, had  marked  her  with  that  sacred  sign, 
from  which  "  the  powers  of  darkness  flee," 
and  had  then  most  surely  granted  her  the  as- 
sistance and  protection  of  his  good  Spirit,  that 
so  she  might  be  enabled  to  conquer  in  the  Avar- 
fare,  and  "  to  continue  His  faithful  soldier  and 
servant  unto  her  life's  end." 

Alas!  how  often  had  those  glorious  priv- 
ileges been  despised  ;  that  Holy  Spirit  grieved 
and  resisted,  and  the  bright  purity  of  her 
baptismal  innocence  stained  with  unnumbered 
sins !  Was  it  strange,  that  while  looking  back 
upon  the  past  with  such  regret,  Grace  should 
ardently  desire  to  save  others  from  the  sorrow 
which  she  herself  experienced ;  that  she  should 
have  learned  to  consider  even  young  and  ten- 
der children  as  not  merely  the  pets  and  play- 
things of  an  hour,  whose  every  whim  might 
be  indulged,  and  evil  habits  suffered  for  a  while 
to  grow  unchecked,  but  as  reasonable  and  ac- 
countable beings — the  members  of  Christ's 
Church,  and  the  inheritors  of  His  everlasting 
kingdom,  towards  which,  with  the  first  dawn 
of  reason,  they  were  pledged  steadfastly  to 
-^•"PSS  on  ? 


THE    LITTLE   ZOOPHYTE   GATHERERS.  47 

But  Grace  was  timid,  and  it  was  very  rarely 
that  she  ventured  upon  an  allusion  to  the  feel- 
ings which  were  ever  uppermost  in  her  mind. 
Perhaps  that  only  made  the  effect  of  her  ex- 
ample stronger ;  for,  although  we  should  never 
hesitate  openly  to  avow  the  principles  on  which 
we  act,  yet  silent  and  unconscious  influence  is, 
in  most  cases,  more  powerful  than  any  words. 
Grace's  little  companions,  on  the  present  occa- 
sion, appeared  all  to  be  intelligent  and  well- 
bred  children ;  it  was  impossible  not  to  feel  a 
warm  interest  in  them,  as  members  of  the  one 
great  "  household  of  faith ;"  and  they,  on  their 
part,  were  charmed  with  the  gentle  gayety  of 
the  lady's  manner,  and  quite  entranced  with 
the  wonderful  stories  by  which  she  beguiled 
the  way. 

Little  Maggie  never  left  her  side,  although 
she  scarcely  spoke,  and  seemed  only  desirous 
of  remaining  near  her.  She  was  very  frail 
and  delicate,  and  Grace  became  almost  anxious 
as  she  watched  the  flush  which  deepened  on 
her  thin,  white  cheek,  and  the  extreme  languor 
visible  in  every  motion ;  but  the  children  all 
united  in  assuring  her,  that  Maggie  never  had 
been  ill  from  the  time  she  was  a  baby,  but  was 
always  pale  and  weak ;  and  although  much 
wearied  by  the  long  walks,  in  which  she  con- 


48     THE  LITTLE  ZOOPHYTE  GATHERERS. 

stantly  accompanied  her  school-fellows,  yet  she 
generally  appeared  to  feel  the  better  for  them 
afterwards. 

At  length  they  reached  the  scene  of  their 
operations,  whereupon  all  set  about  the  work 
of  collecting  zoophytes  with  right  good- will. 
Rocken-End  is  a  long  reef  of  rocks  jutting  out 
into  the  sea ;  it  is  entirely  submerged  at  high 
water;  but  when,  as  on  the  present  occasion, 
the  tide  is  low,  it  is  quite  accessible  to  those 
who  can  manage  to  preserve  their  balance 
upon  the  slippery  sea-weed,  and  who  are  not 
too  particular  about  damp  feet.  Grace  was 
fortunately  provided  with  thick,  substantial 
•\valking-boots,  so  she  felt  no  fear,  and  engaged 
with  ardor  and  spirit  in  the  enterprise. 

She  had  truly  said,  that  she  knew  little  of 
zoophytes  and  their  mode  of  life ;  so  now,  as 
she  detached  the  little  creatures  from  the  stones 
to  which  they  clung,  she  did  not  fail  to  im- 
prove the  opportunity  of  learning  all  she  could 
with  regard  to  this  most  singular  class  of 
created  things,  some  of  which  appear  at  times, 
to  an  unpractised  eye,  to  belong  less  properly 
to  the  animal  than  to  the  vegetable  kingdom. 
The  children  were  delighted  to  afford  to  their 
new  friend  all  the  satisfaction  in  their  power, 
and  thus  Grace  had  the  pleasure  of  feeling 


T1IK    LITTLE    ZOOPHYTE   GAT11EREK8.  49 

that  she  had  acquired  a  considerable  amount 
of  information  with  regard  to  a  very  curious 
and  interesting  branch  of  natural  history. 

There  seem  no  bounds  to  the  knowledge  we 
may  all  of  us  lay  up,  merely  by  exercising 
our  faculties  of  observation,  and  by  not  being 
ashamed  to  own  our  ignorance,  and  profit  by 
the  experience  of  those  who  may  chance  to  be 
better  informed  on  any  one  subject  than  we 
are  ourselves. 

After  some  time  the  small  tin  pails,  which 
the  children  carried,  were  pronounced  to  be 
"quite  full;"  and  Mary  Blake  declared  that 
Mrs.  Parker,  a  lady  in  the  village,  for  whose 
extensive  aquarium  the  various  specimens  that 
they  had  been  collecting  were  designed,  would, 
she  was  sure,  be  fully  satisfied  with  the  result 
of  their  expedition.  A  few  were  selected  and 
put  aside  for  Maggie's  table,  as  she  liked  to 
tend  them,  and  was  besides  frequently  able  to 
dispose  of  one  or  two  to  visitors;  and  when 
this  had  been  accomplished,  Grace  called  to 
the  children  to  seat  themselves  in  a  circle  upon 
the  level  sand,  while  she  herself  once  more 
took  possession  of  the  baskets,  which  had  been 
deposited  for  safe  keeping  in  a  hole  among  the 
rocks,  and  liberally  distributed  the  contents. 
The  children,  to  whom  such  delicacies  were  a 
5 


50     THE  LITTLE  ZOOPHYTE  GATHEREKS. 

rarity,  highly  enjoyed  the  unaccustomed  treat, 
while  the  sight  of  their  happy  faces  was  to 
Grace  a  source  of  yet  greater  pleasure.  At 
the  conclusion  of  their  repast,  all  of  the  party, 
except  little  Maggie,  felt  obliged,  although 
most  unwillingly,  to  set  out  for  home.  They 
lived  at  some  distance  from  the  shore,  and 
they  should  have  to  call  at  Mrs.  Parker's,  and 
their  parents  might  be  uneasy  if  they  were  not 
punctual. 

"  I,  myself,  have  only  half  an  hour  to  spare," 
said  Grace ;  "  for  I  promised  MY  mamma  to 
return  by  half-past  six ;  but  I  should  like,  if  it 
were  possible,  to  go  out  to  the  farthest  point 
of  the  reef  for  a  few  minutes :  the  view  from 
that  high  rock  is  splendid,  and  I  have  a  great 
wish  to  put  it  into  my  sketch-book,  for  it  would 
be  pleasant  to  show  it  to  all  my  friends  in 
America;  and  it  would  make  me  think,  be- 
sides, of  the  happy  afternoon  which  we  have 
passed  together,"  she  added,  looking  kindly 
round  upon  her  young  companions. 

"Indeed  we  shall  not  forget  it,  Miss,"  ex- 
claimed several  of  the  children,  in  a  breath ; 
"  but  what  sort  of  a  book  was  it  you  spoke  of?" 
demanded  little  Fanny  Blake. 

"My  sketch-book,  in  which  I  make  draw- 
ing of  all  the  beautiful  places  that  I  -'- ' 


THE   LITTLE   ZOOPHYTE   GATHERERS.  51 

answered  Grace.  "This  is  my  home,"  she  con- 
tinued, turning  to  the  second  leaf,  whereon  a 
large  and  handsome  mansion  was  represented, 
standing  in  the  midst  of  a  plantation,  and 
shaded  on  one  side  by  a  magnolia  grove. 

"  How  beautiful !"  they  exclaimed,  with 
eager  interest ;  "  but  where  is  it,  Miss  ?  in  what 
part  of  America,  I  mean." 

"In  the  State  of  South  Carolina,"  replied 
Grace.  "  I  dare  say  you  have  read  about  it  in 
your  geography." 

"Yes,  Miss,  we  have,"  said  little  Maggie; 
"but  what  is  this?"  she  added,  pointing  to  a 
church  of  small  but  exquisite  proportions,  sur- 
mounted by  a  slender,  graceful  spire. 

"That  is  the  church  which  we  always  at- 
tend," said  Grace,  as  she  gazed  fondly  on  the 
picture.  "I  was  baptized  there,"  she  con- 
tinued, "  and  confirmed ;  and  after  that  our 
kind  old  rector,  who  is  also  my  uncle,  intrusted 
me  with  the  care  of  several  children,  to  whom 
I  was  to  teach  the  Catechism,  and  Collects, 
and  many  other  things  which  he  recommended. 
It  gave  me  great  pleasure  to  be  able  to  assist 
him ;  and  as  my  pupils  were  affectionate  and  do- 
cile, I  soon  learned  to  love  them  very  dearly." 

"  And  how  old  are  the  children,  Miss  ?"  in- 
quired Johnny  Dawson. 


52  THE   LITTLE    ZOOPHYTE    GATHERERS. 

"I  think  they  must  be  about  your  ages," 
answered  Grace;  "the  eldest  little  girl  is  just 
eleven,  and  the  youngest  between  five  and 
six." 

"  That  does  not  look  at  all  like  our  churches," 
observed  Martha  Blake,  who  had  never  been 
more  than  half  a  dozen  miles  beyond  her  native 
village. 

"  JSTo ;  it  is  quite  different  from  any  in  this 
neighborhood,"  said  Grace,  "  although  it  is 
built  upon  the  model  of  a  church  in  England, 
in  Warwickshire,  if  I  am  not  mistaken ;  but 
you  know  that  the  BUILDING  does  not  signify  ; 
for  all  which  have  been  consecrated  by  the 
Bishop,  and  set  apart  for  the  especial  service 
of  God,  are  alike  holy,  and  we  may  feel  equally 
at  home  in  any  one  of  them ;  for,  throughout 
the  world,  we  shall  find  the  same  prayers  in 
which  we  have  been  taught  to  join ;  and,"  she 
continued,  pointing  to  a  cross  which  crowned 
the  tapering  spire,  "  here  is  an  emblem  which 
is  common  to  us  both  :  can  you  tell  me  what 
verse  in  the  Bible  this  recalls  to  mind  ?" 

The  children  seemed  perplexed  for  a  mo- 
ment; and  then  Mary  asked  whether  it  was 
not  that  passage  of  St.  Paul's  Epistle  to  the 
Ephesians,  in  which  he  speaks  of  there  being 
but  "one  Lord,  one  faith,  one  baptism." 


TIIE   LITTLE   ZOOPHYTE   GATHERERS.  53 

"  Yes ;  you  are  quite  right,  my  love  ;"  said 
Grace.  "  In  one  Lord,  the  hopes  of  all  of  us 
are  centred  ;  to  all  must  the  sacred  symbol  o* 
His  sufferings  suggest  the  same  thoughts  ol 
infinite  and  unchanging  love,  and  with  that 
sign  was  each  one  among  us  sealed  in  Holy 
Baptism.  The  same  warfare,  you  perceive, 
the  same  journey  through  the  wilderness  of 
this  world,  leading  to  the  same  bright  and 
glorious  kingdom,  even  the  '  inheritance  of  the 
saints  in  light.' " 

"The  Creed  speaks  of  the  communion  of 
saints,"  observed  Mary,  in  a  thoughtful  tone. 

"  Yes,"  resumed  Grace ;  " '  the  blessed  com- 
pany of  all  faithful  people ;'  all  who  are  true 
members  of  the  body  of  Christ,  whether  they 
belong  to  the  Church  on  earth,  or  to  the  Church 
Triumphant." 

"  But  the  members  of  the  Church  Triumph- 
ant will  be  quite  ONE,  will  not  they  ?"  asked 
little  Maggie ;  and  she  drew  nearer  to  Grace, 
and  looked  with  inquiring  earnestness  into  her 
face. 

Grace  was  really  startled  by  the  energy  of 
her  tone,  and  by  the  strange,  beautiful  light 
which  illumined  her  pale  and  wasted,  but  most 
lovely  features.  It  was  evident  that  the  child's 
nature  was  peculiarly  excftable,  and  although 


54     THE  LITTLE  ZOOPHYTE  GATHERERS. 

the  theme  upon  which  they  had  been  convers- 
ing was  in  itself  most  soothing  and  consola- 
tory, yet  in  the  little  girl's  weak  state  of 
health,  continued  and  intense  thought  upon 
any  subject  might  be  injurious,  and  Grace  felt 
it  would  be  wisest  not  to  pursue  the  conversa- 
tion farther. 

"  All  members  of  Christ's  holy  Church  are 
one  even  now,"  she  answered,  gently,  as  she 
took  the  child's  burning  hand  within  her  own, 
and  imprinted  a  kiss  upon  her  pallid  brow; 
"  but  in  heaven  they  will  be  always  united, 
and  learn  to  know  and  love  each  other  more 
and  more ;  but  we  shall  not  forget  one  another 
even  here,  I  hope,"  she  added,  turning  to  the 
little  circle,  in  whose  welfare  she  took  so  warm 
and  affectionate  an  interest. 

"  No,  indeed,  Miss ;  never,"  exclaimed  sev- 
eral voices.  Maggie's  was  not  among  them, 
but  she  still  held  Grace's  hand  with  an  almost 
convulsive  pressure. 

"  I  fear  I  have  detained  you  quite  too  lo'ng, 
dear  children,"  observed  Grace ;  "  but  I  really 
could  not  bear  to  say  good-bye." 

"  Oh  no,  Miss ;  we  can  walk  very  fast,"  re- 
plied Ned  Dawson,  a  sprightly  boy  of  nine ; 
"  but  have  we  not  prevented  you  from  draw- 
ing?" 


THE  LITTLE  ZOOPHYTE  GATHERERS.     55 

"  I  think  I  may  still  allow  myself  ten  min- 
utes," answered  Grace ;  "  and  that  will  enable 
me  to  take  the  outline,  which  I  can  afterwards 
fill  up  at  leisure ;  but  I  must  beg  you  will  be 
careful  of  Maggie,  for  she  seems  quite  worn 
out." 

"  May  not  I  stay  with  you,  dear  lady  3"  in- 
quired the  child,  timidly. 

"  I  wish  you  might,"  Grace  answered ;  "  hut 
I  should  not  like  to  make  your  parents  anx- 
ious." 

"Oh,  never  fear,  Miss!"  exclaimed  Ned, 
good-naturedly ;  "  we  will  stop  and  tell  her 
mother  that  she  is  quite  safe." 

"Yes,"  continued  Fanny  Blake;  "and  we 
will  leave  your  baskets  at  the  inn,  if  you  will 
let  us  ;  we  are  obliged  to  pass  it  on  our  way  to 
Mrs.  Parker's."' 

Grace  cordially  thanked  them  for  their  kind- 
ness; and  then  having  ascertained  that  there 
was  no  immediate  danger  to  be  apprehended 
from  the  tide,  she  stepped  lightly  out  upon 
the  reef,  followed  closely  by  her  little  favorite 
Maggie. 

They  were  soon  seated  upon  the  highest 
point,  and  Grace  having  waved  her  handker- 
chief as  a  farewell  signal  to  the  little  group 
upon  the  shore,  set  herself  diligently  to  im- 


56     THE  LITTLE  ZOOPHYTE  GATHERERS. 

prove  the  few  hurried  moments  which  yet 
remained  at  her  command. 

It  was  a  wild,  impressive  scene,  and  one 
well  calculated  to  inspire  a  far  less  enthusiastic 
person  than  Grace  Melville.  Towards  the  west 
the  tall,  dark  rocks  towered  high  in  dreary 
grandeur,  the  outline  of  every  jagged  peak 
being  clearly  defined  against  the  blue,  trans- 
parent sky  ;  but  on  turning  eastward,  the  line 
of  cliffs  became  for  a  short  distance  less  abrupt, 
and  the  eye  was  free  to  range  inland  over  a 
most  singular  tract,  broken  into  deep,  grassy 
hollows,  interspersed  with  mounds  and  boul- 
ders, all  spangled  with  innumerable  wild-flow- 
ers, and  watered  by  many  a  softly-murmuring 
streamlet — yet,  despite  these  elements  of  smil- 
ing beauty,  wearing  even  at  that  charmed  hour 
an  air  of  loneliness  and  melancholy  indescrib- 
able, but  not,  therefore,  the  less  keenly  felt ; 
the  view  was  bounded  by  the  purple  hills: 
and  to  the  east,  along  the  shore,  the  rocks 
again  arose  in  frowning  majesty;  while  upon 
the  highest  of  the  hillocks,  which  were  scat- 
tered over  the  surface  of  the  plain,  was  perched 
a  singularly  constructed  lighthouse,  that  formed 
a  prominent  feature  in  the  landscape. 

Grace's  skilful  pencil  had  ere  long  transfer- 
red the  leading  characteristics  of  the  scenery 


THE  LITTLE  ZOOPHYTE  GATHERERS.     57 

to  thepages  of  her  sketcb-book,  although  no 
_a££isCcould  invest  them  with  the  glow  of  warm, 
rich  coloring,  which  at  that  moment  lent  a 
magic  beauty  to  the  whole.  Maggie,  seated 
on  the  rock  beside  her,  watched  with  absorb- 
ing interest  a  process  to  her  both  new  and 
wonderful.  She  had  frequently,  it  is  true,  seen 
engravings  of  the  different  objects  of  note  in 
the  neighborhood;  and  she  had  even  from  time 
to  time  beheld  artists  on  the  shore  engaged  in 
the  prosecution  of  their  charming  task,  but,  of 
course,  she  had  never  ventured  to  approach 
them.  It  was  an  unexpected  privilege,  the 
being  thus  allowed  to  trace  the  gradual  pro- 
gress of  a  work  which  she  so  much  admired ; 
and  Grace,  who  perceived  her  evident  delight, 
lingered,  unwilling  to  abridge  a  pleasure  which 
the  child  might  never  more  enjoy. 

But  soon  the  slanting  golden  rays  warned 
her  that  it  was  time  they  should  proceed ;  and 
carefully  replacing  her  pencils  in  the  case,  she 
turned  to  her  young  companion,  saying, — 
"  Come,  Maggie,  dear,  we  shall  be  very  late ; 
let  us  go  by  the  nearest  way  to  Blackgang — 
but  we  will  not  say  good-bye  to-night,"  she 
added,  quickly,  observing  that  the  child's  eyes 
were  filled  with  tears.  "  Mamma  hopes  to 
remain  several  days  longer  in  the  village,  and 


58     THE  LITTLE  ZOOPHYTE  GATHERERS. 

you  may  be  sure  that  I  will  try  to  see  you  at 
least  once  again." 

The  little  girl  sprang  lightly  from  her  seat, 
and  in  a  cheerful  tone  began  a  reply  to  Grace's 
last  remark,  but  ere  the  sentence  was  concluded 
she  stopped  short.  An  expression  of  intense 
pain  crossed  her  features ;  her  pallid  cheeks 
became  flushed  with  crimson,  which  in  an  in- 
stant faded  suddenly  away,  and  the  next  mo- 
ment she  would  have  fallen  had  not  Grace 
caught  her  in  her  arms. 

It  was  a  long  and  death-like  swoon.  At 
first,  indeed,  Grace  could  scarcely  persuade 
herself  that  life  still  remained ;  but  she  had 
experience  of  fainting,  in  the  case  of  her  elder 
sister,  who  was  subject  to  repeated  and  severe 
attacks,  and  thus  she  was  not  taken  wholly  by 
surprise.  After  loosening  the  child's  dress, 
and  bathing  her  face  and  hands  with  water, 
the  little  sufferer  revived,  and  in  a  faint 
whisper  begged  that  the  lady  would  not  be 
frightened ;  she  could  walk  quite  well,  for  she 
felt  better  now;  and  as  she  spoke,  she  half- 
raised  herself  from  the  support  of  Grace's  en- 
circling arm,  but  sank  back  exhausted  with 
the  effort. 

"  Do  not  attempt  to  move  just  yet,  my  love," 
said  Grace,  in  a  soothing  tone ;  "  perhaps  you 


THE   LITTLE   ZOOPHYTE   GATHERERS.  59 

may  feel  stronger  presently.  Have  you  ever 
had  an  attack  like  this  before  ?" 

"Oh  yes,  Miss,  several  times,"  replied  the 
child,  "but  I  have  never  felt  so  ill  as  I  do 
now."  There  was  a  pause,  and  then  she  add- 
ed, calmly,  but  in  a  voice  of  awe :  "  Persons 
have  often  said  that  I  looked  sickly,  and  likely 
to  die  young,  as  both  my  brothers  and  my 
sister  did." 

Grace  carefully  restrained  the  slightest  sign 
of  agitation. 

"  I  hope  you  are  not  really  ill,"  she  said ; 
"  you  have  been  tired  by  your  long  walk :  but 
we  had  best  try  to  find  some  one  who  will 
carry  you  to  the  cottage,  for  the  tide  seems 
rising  now,  and  it  can  hardly  be  quite  safe  to 
stay  here  longer." 

As  she  spoke,  Grace  gently  raised  the  child, 
and  cautiously  made  her  way  along  the  slip- 
pery ledge.  The  poor  little  girl  was  too  ill  to 
make  the  least  resistance ;  in  fact,  she  seemed 
only  half  conscious  of  what  was  going  on,  but 
lay  with  her  head  resting  on  Grace's  shoulder, 
colorless  as  a  snow-flake,  and  almost  as  light. 
It  was  rather  difficult  to  reach  the  shore,  for 
the  tide  had  risen  considerably,  and  the  step- 
ping-stones were  already  under  water;  but 
Grace  was  strong,  and  in  nowise  afraid  of  ex- 


60  THE   LITTLE   ZOOPHYTE   GATHERERS. 

posure,  when  in  the  way  of  duty ;  so  finding 
that  it  was  impossible  to  keep  her  footing  on 
the  rocks,  without  the  risk  of  falling  with  her 
precious  burden,  she  immediately  abandoned 
them,  and  plunged  into  the  sea,  through  which 
she  waded  knee-deep  to  the  beach. 

It  was  no  easy  matter  to  gain  the  old  light- 
house, for  her  limbs  trembled,  and  she  was 
well-nigh  overcome  by  anxiety  and  fatigue ; 
but  delay  might  be  fatal,  and  she  hastened  on. 
Just  as  she  had  reached  the  foot  of  the  hill, 
some  one  appeared  in  view,  following  the  path 
which  wound  along  its  summit.  Grace  called 
aloud  for  aid,  and  the  man,  a  respectable  Irish 
laborer,  instantly  retraced  his  steps.  His  face 
expressed  a  momentary  surprise  as  he  drew 
near,  and  then  he  started  back,  exclaiming : 

"  Sure  and  it's  little  Maggie  Wilson !  Well, 
poor  dear,  I  always  thought  she  would  not  be 
here  long ;  but  let  me  take  her  from  you, 
ma'am,"  he  added,  as  he  tenderly  lifted  the 
fainting  child  in  his  strong  arms,  and  hurried 
onward  in  the  direction  of  the  cottage. 

"  Do  you  think  that  she  is  very  ill  ?"  asked 
Grace,  in  a  low  voice,  as  she  followed  at  an 
almost  breathless  speed. 

"  It  was  in  the  family,"  the  man  replied  ; 
"  the  three  other  children  had  died  just  as  sud- 


THE    LITTLE   ZOOPHYTE   GATHERERS. 

denly — disease  of  the  heart,"  he  believed,  "  tin 
doctor  called  it." 

Neither  spoke  again  until  they  reached  the 
chine.  The  mother  herself  appeared,  as  she 
saw  them  approaching,  and  Grace  was  struck, 
at  the  first  glance,  with  the  extraordinary 
resemblance  between  her  and  the  little  girl. 
There  was  the  same  fragile  form,  and  the  same 
delicacy  of  feature,  but  with  a  worn  and  hag- 
gard expression  that  painfully  contrasted  with 
the  purity  and  repose  which  the  child's  coun- 
tenance exhibited.  Grace  felt,  as  she  looked 
on  her,  that  her  days  were  few — soon,  very 
soon,  perchance,  she  would  be  laid  to  rest 
beside  her  children  in  the  green  church-yard, 
and  the  same  words  of  peace  and  sacred  trust 
would  be  breathed  over  their  senseless  clay ; 
but  would  all  be  in  reality  the  same  ? 

Grace  longed,  with  an  inexpressible  desire, 
to  feel  the  like  "  assurance  of  hope"  with  re- 
gard to  this  new  claimant  upon  her  sympathy. 
But  she  might  have  set  her  mind  at  rest,  for 
Margaret  Wilson  was  an  earnest  and  devoted 
Christian.  Trials,  such  as  it  has  been  the  lot 
of  few  to  suffer,  had  been  her  portion,  and 
they  had  cast  a  shade  over  a  naturally  joyous 
spirit,  and  marred  a  countenance  which  had 
once  beamed  with  no  ordinary  beauty;  but 
6 


62     THE  LITTLE  ZOOPHYTE  GATHERERS. 

now  her  warfare  was  about  to  close,  and  Mar- 
garet felt  that  to  her  the  change  would  be  a 
blessed  one  indeed.  One  sole  anxiety  dark- 
ened the  brightness  of  the  prospect :  her  droop- 
ing flower — the  last  surviving  one  of  all  her 
offspring — would  be  left  solitary  in  her  tender 
youth,  without  the  care  of  parents,  or  of  any 
near  relation  in  the  world. 

At  such  times  the  fond  mother  often  prayed, 
that  if  it  were  God's  will,  the  helpless  little  one 
might  be  first  removed  beyond  the  power  of 
sin  and  sorrow,  feeling  that  she  herself  would 
be  willing,  gladly  and  thankfully,  to  endure  the 
solitude  which  must  then  be  hers  during  the 
brief  remainder  of  her  life,  and  that  even  on 
earth  she  could  be  happy,  in  the  consciousness 
that  her  treasure  was  secure  from  harm.  Such 
was  the  fervent  prayer  which  God,  in  His 
mercy,  had  seen  fit  to  grant.  Alas !  human 
nature  is  but  weak,  and  poor  Margaret  could 
not  restrain  a  cry  of  anguish  as  she  gazed  on 
the  child's  senseless  form. 

That  mood,  however,  was  of  short  duration ; 
and  having  thanked  the  worthy  laborer,  and 
received  from  him  a  promise  that  the  doctor 
should  be  sent  immediately,  and  also  that  a 
kind-hearted  neighbor  should  be  requested  to 
call  and  render  her  assistance,  she  began  silently 


THE  LITTLE   ZOOPHYTE   GATHEREES.  63 

to  arrange  the  little  bed,  while  Grace  sat  in  a 
low  easy-chair,  holding  the  unconscious  sufferer 
in  her  arms.  In  a  few  moments  Mrs.  Davis 
entered ;  she  was  evidently  an  experienced 
nurse,  and  set  about  making  all  the  needful 
preparations  with  a  remarkable  degree  of  quiet 
energy,  and  freedom  from  all  bustle  and  con- 
fusion. 

"  Poor  thing  !  do  not  try  to  talk,"  she  said, 
upon  observing  that  her  friend's  voice  trem- 
bled and  her  limbs  shook,  as  she  endeavored  to 
give  some  account  of  all  that  had  occurred. 
u  You  shall  tell  me  about  it  by  and  by,  when 
you  are  better,  and  now  do  not  trouble  about 
any  thing,  for  I  will  set  all  to  rights." 

"With  a  sigh  of  relief  the  poor  mother  turned 
away.  Grace  rose ;  and  having  resigned  her 
charge,  she  whispered  a  few  words  of  consola- 
tion, and  then  glided  gently  from  the  room.  It 
was  really  very  late — full  half  an  hour  beyond 
the  appointed  time — and  a  sense  of  the  nervous 
terror  which  her  mother  must  have  undergone 
almost  banished  for  a  while  the  recollection  of 
the  scene  she  had  just  quitted. 

Upon  arriving  at  the  inn,  however,  she 
found  that  the  carriage  had  not  yet  returned, 
so  she  had  time  to  change  her  dress,  and  give 
directions  that  all  should  be  in  readiness  to 


64:     THE  LITTLE  ZOOPHYTE  GATHERERS. 

serve  tea  at  a  moment's  notice.  It  was  not 
long  before  the  sound  of  wheels  was  heard, 
followed  soon  after  by  the  entrance  of  Mrs. 
Melville,  who  observed,  with  a  smile,  that  the 
supper-table  was  a  welcome  sight.  They  would 
not  be  five  minutes  in  taking  off  their  bonnets, 
so  Grace  might  ring  and  order  the  chicken  to 
be  brought  up  directly.  She  did  so,  and  with 
an  effort  managed  to  speak  cheerfully,  for  she 
was  resolved  not  to  mar  the  enjoyment  of  the 
social  meal  by  an  immediate  relation  of  the 
day's  events. 

"And  now,  Grade,  for  a  history  of  your 
adventures,"  exclaimed  Helen,  as  she  helped 
herself  to  a  large  slice  of  fruit-cake,  and  handed 
her  cup  to  be  replenished  by  her  sister. 

"I  will  tell  you  presently,"  replied  Grace, 
smiling ;  "  but  supposing  yon  were  to  set  me 
the  example.  I  am  especially  curious  to  learn 
what  can  have  happened  to  detain  you  nearly 
an  hour  beyond  the  time  you  mentioned." 

"Then  you  were  uneasy,  my  love?"  said 
Mrs.  Melville.  "  I  was  afraid  you  might  be, 
although  there  was  in  reality  no  cause  for  ap- 
prehension." 

"  Excepting  that  poor  Grace  was  sadly  im- 
patient for  her  tea,  I  have  no  doubt,"  inter- 
rupted Helen,  with  a  merry  laugh ;  "  and, 


THE   LITTLE   ZOOPHYTE   GATHERERS.  65 

really,  I  must  own  that  my  conscience  re- 
proached me  during  our  homeward  drive,  for 
it  was  all  my  doing,  Gracie ;  but  to  leave  sweet 
Brading  before  the  last  moment  was  impossible, 
as  I  am  sure  you  would  have  yourself  acknowl- 
edged." 

"Brading,"  repeated  Grace,  with  an  accent 
of  surprise,  "the  scene  of  Legh  Richmond's 
sweet  story,  'The  Young  Cottager?'  O  Hel- 
en !  you  have  not  been  there !" 

"  I  told  you,  you  would  be  sorry  if  you  did 
not  go  with  us,"  said  Helen,  in  rather  a  tri- 
umphant tone.  "  It  would  have  been  a  perfect 
day,  Grace,  if  only  you  had  been  of  the  party ; 
however,  mamma  and  I  are  resolved  that  we 
will  not  consent  to  any  more  solitary  rambles 
for  the  future ;  so  I  hope  you  have  made  the 
most  of  this  one." 

"  Stay ;  we  have  not  been  quite  so  arbitrary," 
interposed  Mrs.  Melville ;  "  but  seriously,  my 
dear,  I  cannot  tell  you  all  the  interest  you  have 
missed.  The  drive  along  the  Undercliff  was 
more  exquisitely  lovely  than  any  scene  I  have 
ever  beheld  either  in  imagination  or  in  reality ; 
and  it  was  very  grand,  as  well  as  beautiful,  but 
of  this,  I  hope,  yon  will  soon  be  able  to  judge 
for  yourself. 

"  "We  went  as  far  as  Ventnor,  where  we  had 


66     THE  LITTLE  ZOOPHYTE  GATHERERS. 

intended  passing  several  hours:  I  think  that 
neighborhood  must  be  as  near  perfection  as 
any  spot  on  earth,  but  it  was  impossible  to  en- 
joy it  without  you ;  so  we  determined  upon 
leaving  it  until  another  day,  and  taking  a  long 
drive  instead.  By  chance,  we  overheard  the 
arrangements  of  some  tourists,  who  were  about 
to  separate,  and  appointed  BEADING  as  a  place 
of  meeting.  The  name  was,  of  course,  famil- 
iar, but  we  had  both  forgotten  that  it  is  in  the 
Isle  of  Wight ;  however,  we  learned  upon  in- 
quiry that  it  was  about  eight  miles  distant ;  so, 
as  we  could  scarcely  expect  to  have  another 
opportunity  of  going  so  far  in  that  direction, 
we  were  obliged  to  take  advantage  of  this  one ; 
and  I  regret  that  you  will  most  likely  be  forced 
to  remain  satisfied  with  our  descriptions." 

"  Which  will  not,  by  any  means,  do  justice 
to  sweet  Brading,"  observed  Helen,  u  since 
even  Legh  Richmond's  pen  has  failed.  The 
scenery  is  not  wild  and  romantic,  Grace,  but 
full  of  that  quiet  pastoral  loveliness,  which  is 
always  associated  in  one's  mind  with  England. 
We  went  first  to  the  cottage  in  which  '  Little 
Jane's'  short  life  was  passed ;  it  is  one  of  the 
most  humble  in  the  village,  and  is  inhabited 
by  a  very  aged  couple,  whose  minds,  as  well  as 
their  bodies,  seem  impaired  by  years.  Thence 


THE  LITTLE  ZOOPHYTE  GATHERERS.     67 

we  proceeded  to  the  church,  which  is  large  and 
beautiful,  and  of  great  antiquity ;  and  having 
lingered  for  an  hour  to  inspect  the  monuments 
of  an  old  and  noble  race,  we  wandered  out 
alone  into  the  church-yard,  where,  after  search- 
ing among  the  moss-grown  tombstones,  we  at 
length  discovered  that  which  marks  the  rest- 
ing-place of  the  '  Young  Cottager ;'  and  farther 
on,  the  marble  slab  on  which  are  engraved 
those  lines  that  made  so  powerful  an  impres- 
sion on  her  mind.  You  remember  the  passage, 
Grace,  of  course?" 

"Yes,  indeed.  How  interesting  your  visit 
must  have  been !"  replied  Grace,  as  she  vainly 
endeavored  to  concentrate  her  attention  upon 
her  sister's  recital. 

"  You  may  well  say  so,"  continued  Helen ; 
"  and  afterwards  we  seated  ourselves  upon  the 
steps  of  an  old  sun-dial,  overlooking  the  fair 
valley  and  the  blue  misty  hills.  The  rectory 
immediately  adjoins  the  church-yard,  and  I 
could  half  fancy  that  I  saw  the  group  of  chil- 
dren dispersed  among  the  tombstones,  deeply 
engaged  in  studying  the  epitaphs,  and  good 
Mr.  Richmond  upon  the  lawn  in  front  of  his 
abode,  watching  them  with  his  calm,  grave 
smile  of  earnestness  and  solicitude." 

"  Yes,"  resumed  Mrs.  Melville ;  "  and  then 


68  THE    LITTLE    ZOOPHYTE    GATHERERS. 

the  exquisite  pathos  of  those  few  simple  lines 
which  are  inscribed  upon  the  grave  of  '  Little 
Jane.'  Often  as  I  had  read  and  admired  them 
before,  I  never  until  to-day  fully  understood 
the  depth  of  tenderness  they  breathe  : 

'  A  child  reposes  underneath  this  sod, 
A  child  to  memory  dear,  and  dear  to  God.' M 

At  this  point  of  the  conversation,  poor  Grace 
could  no  longer  restrain  the  emotions  which 
had  during  the  past  hour  been  struggling  for 
utterance.  Her  voice  failed  her  when  she 
tried  to  speak,  and  the  tears  flowed  fast  and 
freely. 

"  You  must  be  completely  wearied,  dearest," 
exclaimed  Helen,  as  she  left  her  seat,  and  bent 
affectionately  over  her  beloved  and  only  sister ; 
"  indeed,  I  have  noticed  ever  since  we  came  in 
that  you  looked  pale.  Suppose  you  were  to 
lie  down  on  the  sofa,  and  let  me  take  your 
place  and  pour  out  tea." 

"No,  thank  you,  Helen,  I  am  quite  well, 
and  you  require  rauch  more  to  be  taken  care 
of,"  answered  Grace,  with  an  attempt  at  play- 
fulness. 

"  Has  any  thing  happened  to  distress  you, 
my  love  ?"  inquired  Mrs.  Melville,  anxiously. 


THE   LITTLE   ZOOPHYTE   GATI1EKEKS.  69 

And  then  in  simple,  touching  language, 
Grace  began  a  narration  of  the  scenes  through 
which  she  had  passed.  The  warm  sympathy 
of  her  auditors  was  enlisted  when  she  spoke  of 
the  sweet,  gentle  child  who  was  at  that  mo- 
ment lying  at  the  point  of  death ;  and  ringing 
the  bell,  Mrs.  Melville  at  once  despatched  a 
servant  to  the  chine,  with  directions  to  inquire 
for  the  little  girl,  and  also  to  procure  any  thing 
which  might  be  useful.  In  about  half  an  hour 
the  messenger  returned.  There  was  nothing 
wanted,  she  assured  them ;  the  doctor  had  just 
left,  after  declaring  that  his  young  patient 
could  not  be  expected  to  live  many  hours ;  she 
was  in  great  pain  at  present,  but  it  was  hoped 
"that  her  sufferings  would  be  shortly  over. 

As  soon  as  they  were  left  alone,  Mrs.  Mel- 
ville and  her  daughters  prepared  to  read  the 
Evening  Psalms  and  Lessons,  in  accordance 
with  their  usual  habit ;  and  then  having  united 
in  some  beautiful  Church  prayers,  including 
that  petition  for  a  child  who  is  considered  dan- 
gerously ill,  they  separated  for  the  night,  in 
the  hope  of  obtaining  that  repose  of  which  all 
stood  so  much  in  need. 

But  Grace  found  sleep  impossible.  Hour 
after  hour  went  by  ;  and  when,  in  the  end,  ex- 
haustion prevailed  and  she  sank  into  a  troubled 


70  THE   LITTLE   ZOOPHYTE   GATHERERS. 

slumber,  it  was  only  to  awake  witli  greater 
longings  to  find  herself  a  watcher  in  the  lonely 
cottage.  At  length  she  was  blessed  with  a 
longer  and  more  unbroken  interval  of  forget- 
fulness,  from  which  she  awoke  calm  and  re- 
freshed. It  was  very  early ;  the  sun  had  not 
yet  risen,  but  the  eastern  sky  was  piled  with 
bright  masses  of  gold  and  crimson  clouds,  and 
the  morning  star  was  "  paleing"  in  the  glorious 
dawn.  Grace  rose  and  dressed ;  she  was  re- 
solved to  proceed  to  the  chine  without  delay. 
Her  presence,  she  felt  convinced,  would  not  be 
considered  an  intrusion  ;  and  there  was  no  fear 
that  Mrs.  Melville  and  Helen,  who  occupied 
the  adjoining  room,  would  be  uneasy  at  her 
absence,  for  she  frequently  indulged  in  early 
rambles ;  so  opening  the  window,  which  was  but 
slightly  raised  above  the  ground,  Grace  sprang 
lightly  down  upon  the  level  turf,  and  was  soon 
beyond  the  pleasure-ground  of  the  inn. 

The  door  of  the  cottage  in  the  chine  was 
thrown  wide  open  to  admit  the  cooling  breeze  ; 
and  Margaret  "Wilson,  who  at  once  caught  sight 
of  her  visitor,  came  forward  with  an  eager 
greeting.  She  was,  if  possible,  yet  paler  than 
when  Grace  had  seen  her  last,  but  very  serene, 
and  almost  unmoved  in  her  demeanor.  "  She 
•was  so  thankful,"  she  said,  "  that  Grace  had 


THE   LITTLE   ZOOPHYTE   GATHERERS,  tfl 

come ;  her  darling  had  constantly  spoken,  in 
delirium,  of  the  sweet  young  lady  \vho  had 
been  so  kind  to  her.  It  had  been  a  fearful 
night,"  the  mother  added,  while  a  slight  shiver 
passed  through  her  frame ;  "  but  the  pain  was 
over  now,  and  it  was  believed  that  conscious- 
ness would  not  return." 

Grace  followed  into  the  cottage,  without  at- 
tempting to  reply.  The  child  was  extended 
upon  her  little  couch,  a  faint  flush  just  tinging 
her  transparent  cheek :  so  still  and  motionless 
she  seemed,  one  might  almost  have  fancied 
that  the  angel  spirit  had  already  taken  flight 
to  another  and  a  happier  sphere. 

"  She  still  lives,"  said  Mrs.  Davis,  in  a  whis- 
per, as  she  rose  and  signed  to  Grace  to  take 
her  seat  beside  the  bed. 

"  But  she  will  never  know  even  me  again, 
in  this  world,"  exclaimed  the  poor  mother, 
with  a  sudden  gush  of  tears,  as  she  sank  upon 
the  floor,  and  clasped  one  small  hand  tightly 
between  both  her  own. 

At  that  instant  the  sun  burst  forth  with 
lazzling  glory,  and  his  warm  rays  streamed 
into  the  humble  room,  and  fell  full  upon  the 
face  of  the  dying  child.  Slowly  the  soft  blue 
eyes  unclosed;  the  power  of  utterance  was 
gone,  but  a  smile  of  radiant  beauty  played 


72     THE  LITTLE  ZOOPHYTE  GATHEKEES. 

around  her  lips,  and  it  was  evident  that  she 
recognized  the  features  of  those  who  were  now 
kneeling  side  by  side.  Soon  the  brilliancy  of 
that  smile  was  succeeded  by  an  expression  of 
deep  and  holy  calm  ;  the  last  lingering  tint  of 
rose  faded  from  cheek  and  lip,  and  with  a  sigh 
so  low  as  to  be  scarcely  heard,  the  spirit  passed 
into  the  land  of  everlasting  life. 

She  was  buried  in  the  quiet  church-yard  on 
the  afternoon  of  the  ensuing  Friday.  Grace 
Melville  was  present  at  the  solemn  service; 
and  when  the  last  soothing  rites  of  the  Church 
had  been  performed,  and  the  few  mourners  had 
dispersed  in  silence  to  their  several  homes,  the 
young  and  gentle  lady  still  remained  to  adorn 
the  lowly  tomb  with  flowers, — the  crimson 
fuschia,  drooping  beneath  its  weight  of  pendent 
blossoms,  at  the  foot  of  the  little  mound, — and 
the  pure  white  rose,  giving  its  sweet  perfume 
to  the  breeze  which  wanders  through  that  con- 
secrated spot,  and  ever  and  anon  casts  a  shower 
of  stainless  petals  upon  the  adjoining  grave, 
where  rests 


THE  CHILDREN 


ST.  CATHERINE'S  CHANTRY. 


"  Voices  low  and  gentle, 

And  timid  glances  shy, 
That  seem  for  aid  parental 

To  sue  all  wistfully ; 
All  pressing,  longing  to  do  right, 

Yet  fearing  to  be  wrong; 
In  these,  the  pastor  dares  delight, 
A  lamb-like,  Christ-like  throng." 

CHRISTIAN  YEAB. 

"WAS  born  in  a  sweet,  secluded 
village  in  the  south  of  England, 
and  in  that  calm  retirement  the 
first  bright  years  of  childhood 
glided  tranquilly  away.  Fair- 
light  had  been  the  home  of  my 
forefathers  for  several  generations.  It  was  a 
large,  old-fashioned,  gray  stone  hall,  situated 
upon  the  verge. of  a  gently  sloping  hill,  over- 
looking a  rich  and  varied  prospect  of  meadows, 
and  woodlands,  and  silvery-gushing  streams; 
while  at  the  rear  extended,  for  miles  and  miles, 
a  ridge  of  low,  undulating,  grassy  downs, 

7 


4:  THE    CHILDREN    OF 

forming  a  pleasing  back-ground  to  the  bloom- 
ing loveliness  of  the  parks  and  gardens,  which 
completely  surrounded  my  father's  dwelling. 

It  was  shortly  after  the  celebration  of  my 
eighth  birth-day' — an  event  that  was  duly  ob- 
served, a  holiday  being  given  to  the  children 
of  the  little  school  that  had  been  principally 
founded  and  endowed  by  my  dear  mother,  and 
a  feast  being  provided  for  myself,  and  about  a 
dozen  young  companions,  in  the  beautiful  sum- 
mer-house which  stood  upon  the  borders  of  our 
tiny  lake. 

It  was,  if  I  remember  rightly,  within  three 
months  of  this  never  to  be  forgotten  birth-day, 
that  my  parents,  for  reasons  on  which  it  is  un- 
necessary now  to  enter,  determined  upon  a 
removal  to  the  United  States.  It  was  to  be  a 
temporary  residence,  they  said ;  at  the  end  of 
two,  or,  at  the  most,  three  years,  we  were  to 
return  to  England ;  but  the  allotted  time  passed 
on,  and  before  another  year  had  closed,  my 
sweet  mother  was  taken  to  her  rest,  and  then 
the  very  thought  of  Fairlight  became  wholly 
insupportable  to  my  father's  mind.  He  had 
learned  ere  this  to  conceive  a  warm  affection 
for  his  adopted  country ;  and  now  it  had  be- 
come doubly  dear  from  being  the  grave  of  her 
whose  memory  he  so  fondly  cherished. 


ST.  GATHERER'S  CHANTEY.  75 

My  boyish  interests  and  associations  were 
also  in  the  Western  world.  Therefore,  after 
many  consultations,  and  not,  I  suspect,  without 
a  few  misgivings,  it  was  at  length  determined 
that  the  lands  which  had  so  long  been  ours 
should  be  disposed  of,  and  suffered  to  pass  into 
the  hands  of  strangers ;  and  that  America  was 
thenceforth  to  be  our  home.  I  was  content 
with  this  decision,  for  we  were  surrounded  by 
a  large  circle  of  valued  and  congenial  friends, 
while  our  abode  was  the  seat  of  comfort,  ele- 
gance, and  the  refinement  of  a  pure  and  culti- 
vated taste,  a  gift  which  my  father  possessed 
in  a  very  eminent  degree. 

So  we  continued  to  dwell  upon  the  banks  of 
the  noble  Hudson ;  and  there  my  youth  was 
passed  in  laborious  study,  and  in  preparations 
for  the  sacred  calling,  to  which  I  had  long 
prayed  I  might  be  permitted  to  devote  my 
powers.  That  prayer  was  granted ;  and  at  the 
dawn  of  manhood,  I  was  admitted  to  Holy 
Orders,  in  the  American  branch  of  the  Church 
Catholic. 

England  and  America  were  ONE  ;  so  my  dear 
father  often  said,  when  playfully  accused  by 
others  of  having  abandoned  his  ancestral 
home ;  and  I,  for  my  part,  never  engaged  in 
the  hallowed  services  of  the  Church  without 


76  THE   CHILDREN    OF 

inwardly  acknowledging  that  his  words  were 
true.  Still,  as  years  rolled  on,  I  found  it  more 
and  more  difficult  to  repress  a  yearning  wish 
to  gaze  once  more  upon  the  long  unvisited, 
although  well-remembered  scenes  of  my  native 
land. 

But  there  seemed  no  probability  that  my 
desire  could  be  realized ;  for  I  never  would 
consent,  from  motives  of  pleasure  only,  to  de- 
sert the  people  committed  to  my  care.  How, 
indeed,  could  I  conscientiously  allow  myself  to 
contemplate  any  scheme  which  must  involve 
even  a  temporary  separation  from  the  scene  of 
my  labors,  while  fully  conscious  that  the  ex- 
clusive devotion  of  my  every  thought  and 
faculty  was  quite  inadequate  to  a  successful 
discharge  of  the  all-important  work  which  I 
had  undertaken  ?  Alas  !  an  opportunity  was 
ere  long  presented  in  an  unlooked-for  way,  but 
it  came  in  the  guise  of  a  most  heavy  trial. 

Several  of  my  mother's  family  had  fallen 
victims  to  consumption,  and  she  herself  had 
always  had  a  tendency  towards  that  fatal 
malady,  although  her  days  had  eventually 
been  shortened  by  an  infectious  fever.  I  had 
been  considered  unusually  strong ;  but  it  at 
length  became  evident  that  I  had  inherited  the 
germ  of  the  disease,  and  the  physicians  who 


ST.  CATHERINE'S  CHANTRY.  77 

were  immediately  consulted,  united  in  declar- 
ing that  it  would  be  highly  imprudent  for  me 
to  dream  of  continuing  to  reside  in  a  climate 
where  the  winters  are  so  trying,  even  to  the 
hardy  and  robust.  I  should  always  possess  a 
peculiar  delicacy  of  constitution,  they  assured 
me ;  but,  with  due  precaution,  it  might  be 
nothing  more. 

So,  yielding  to  the  earnest  solicitations  of 
my  father,  I  resigned,  with  heartfelt  sorrow, 
the  charge  of  the  flock  I  so  truly  loved,  and 
accepted  a  call  to  a  remote  parish  in  the  sunny 
clime  of  Florida.  Some  months,  however,  must 
elapse  before  I  could  enter  upon  my  duties  in 
this  new  sphere  of  action,  and  I  decided  upon 
employing  a  portion  of  the  intervening  time 
in  making  a  short  tour  through  the  most  inter- 
esting parts  of  England  and  North  "Wales.  It 
is  an  incident  of  this  journey  that  I  am  desir- 
ous of  recording  for  the  amusement  and  in- 
struction of  my  youthful  readers. 

It  was  on  a  warm  September  day,  when 
the  blue  heavens  were  half-veiled  with  fleecy 
clouds,  and  the  trees  were  just  beginning  to 
exhibit  those  faint,  fair  tints  of  gold  and 
orange,  which  in  England  herald  the  approach 
of  autumn,  that  I  gazed  for  the  first  time  upon 
the  enchanting  scenery  of  the  Isle  of  "Wight, 


78  THE   CHILDREN   OF 

where  I  had  arranged  to  pass  the  last  week  of 
my  stay  in  Europe.  How  I  revelled  in  the 
pure  bright  sunshine  and  the  balmy  air,  and 
in  the  exquisite  loveliness  which  everywhere 
surrounded  me! — all  the  more  enjoyable,  per- 
haps, from  the  striking  contrast  they  presented 
to  the  stormy  glories  of  SNOWDONIA. 

In  the  course  of  my  journey  ings  through  the 
island,  I  came,  however,  upon  a  district  which, 
from  its  exceeding  wildness,  strongly  reminded 
me  of  the  less  mountainous  regions  of  the  land 
I  had  so  lately  quitted ;  and  wishing  to  explore 
the  locality  at  leisure,  I  took  up  my  abode  for 

the  night  in  the  little  village  inn  of  C , 

instead  of  going  on  that  day  to  Newport,  as  I 
had  originally  intended. 

Having  done  full  justice  to  my  landlady's 
good  fare,  I  set  sail  upon  a  voyage  of  discovery, 
feeling  very  weary,  and  yet  quite  determined 
to  leave  no  spot  of  note  unvisited  through  any 
wilful  indolence  or  neglect.  The  school  at- 
tracted my  attention  as  I  was  passing  through 
the  hamlet ;  so  I  stopped,  and  respectfully  re- 
quested leave  to  enter.  The  "governess,"  a 
cheerful,  kindly  person,  at  once  acceded  to  my 
desire,  and  I  was  shown  every  thing  which 
seemed  likely  to  interest  or  please  a  stranger. 
The  pupils  were  not  at  that  hour  occupied  with 


ST.  CATHERINE'S  CHANTRY.  79 

their  tasks,  a  circumstance  I  much  regretted  ; 
but  I  was  conducted  through  the  large,  airy 
school-rooms,  and  allowed  to  inspect  the  vari- 
ous books  from  which  they  studied,  together 
with  the  pretty  engravings,  all  on  religious 
subjects,  and  the  Creed,  the  Lord's  Prayer, 
and  the  Ten  Commandments,  in  gilt  frames, 
which  formed  the  only  decoration  of  the  walls. 

I  was  then  ushered  into  a  much  smaller 
apartment,  fitted  up  as  an  infant  school ;  and 
when  my  amiable  conductress  had  explained 
to  me  the  exact  system  of  instruction  here  pur- 
sued, and  had  also  afforded  me  much  informa- 
tion relative  to  the  attainments  of  her  little 
scholars,  we  returned  to  the  outer  school-room, 
where  I  was  shown  a  grand  display  of  needle- 
work and  copy-books.  Of  the  merits  of  the 
former,  I  must  own  I  am  by  no  means  compe- 
tent to  judge ;  but  as  regards  the  latter,  I  was 
greatly  struck  with  the  clearness  and  freedom 
of  the  characters,  and  the  extreme  neatness 
which  was  apparent  in  the  efforts  of  the  very 
youngest. 

"This  may  well  do  credit  to  a  little  girl  just 
ten  years  old,"  observed  Mrs.  Johnson,  as  she 
placed  a  writing-book  before  me  on  the  table. 

"  It  is  certainly  remarkable,"  I  replied,  gaz- 
ing with  surprise  upon  the  well-formed  letters, 


80  THE   CHILDREN    OF 

so  bold,  and  yet  so  delicate ;  "  a  more  legible 
handwriting  I  have  never  seen." 

"  Annie  Withers  is  a  nice  child  in  all  re- 
spects," resumed  the  teacher ;  "  she  is  so  gentle 
and  loving  in  her  disposition.  Indeed,  the  five 
of  that  family  are  all  sweet  children;  there 
are  none  of  my  pupils  in  whom  I  can  place 
more  entire  confidence." 

"And  have  they  been  long  under  your 
charge  ?"  I  asked. 

"  Only  for  about  six  months,"  she  replied. 
"Their  father  is  a  respectable  Berkshire  far- 
mer, who  has  but  recently  removed  to  the  Isle 
of  "Wight.  lie  and  his  wife  are  both  indus- 
trious, contented  people,  and  more  excellent 
neighbors  it  would  be  hard  to  find." 

"  They  would  seem,  judging  from  your  ac- 
count, to  have  brought  up  their  children  ad- 
mirably well,"  I  said. 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  she  answered,  "  although  the 
children  have  had  many  advantages,  besides 
those  that  their  parents  were  able  to  afford 
them.  This  exercise  of  Annie's  will  give  you 
some  idea  of  the  extent  and  accuracy  of  their 
Scriptural  knowledge,  for  all  have,  in  propor- 
tion, done  as  well.  It  was  a  task  assigned  to 
the  whole  school  at  Easter  ;  they  were  desired 
to  study  the  New  Testament  with  care,  and 


ST.  CATHERINE'S  CHANTRY.  81 

write  out  all  those  passages  which  refer  to  the 
Resurrection  of  our  Lord ;  or,  if  they  prefer- 
red, to  indicate  the  chapter  and  verse  from 
which  the  texts  were  taken. 

"Annie's  was  evidently  the  result  of  dili- 
gence and  attention,"  she  continued,  as,  having 
for  some  time  searched  unsuccessfully  amid  the 
miscellaneous  contents  of  a  desk,  she  at  length 
drew  forth  a  slip  of  paper  containing  a  list  of 
references,  and  placed  it  in  my  hand.  "  Per- 
haps you  will  like  to  keep  it,  sir,"  she  added 
kindly,  on  perceiving  that  I  was  much  pleased 
with  the  production  ;  "  it  may  bring  back  the 
recollection  of  our  little  village;  and  as  you 
are  a  clergyman  of  the  American  Church,  you 
may  find  pleasure  in  comparing  the  fruit  of 
our  labors  in  old  England,  with  the  great  work 
that  is  now  going  forward  in  your  own  more 
distant  portion  of  the  same  vineyard." 

"  It  will,  indeed,  be  a  source  of  more  grati- 
fication than  you  can  imagine,"  I  replied,  as  I 
cordially  shook  hands  with  the  good  teacher. 
"  I  have  been  wishing  to  visit  your  old  church," 
I  continued ;  "  will  you  be  so  obliging  as  to  tell 
me  where  I  can  procure  the  key  ?" 

"I  can  lend  you  one,  sir,"  she  answered, 
smiling :  "  it  looks  sadly  neglected  now,"  she 
added,  with  a  sigh ;  "  but  I  am  hoping  still  to 


82  THE    CHILDREN    OP 

see  the  day  when  it  will  be  restored,  and  fre- 
quent services  again  be  held  within  the  walls 
that  now,  alas !  are  silent  throughout  all  the 
week." 

Heartily  did  I  re-echo  Mrs.  Johnson's  wish, 
as  I  passed  along  the  deserted-looking  church- 
yard, and  having,  with  some  difficulty,  turned 
the  key  in  the  rusty  lock,  entered  within  the 
mouldering,  but  still  sacred  temple.  Every 
thing  bore  the  marks  of  great  antiquity ;  but 
with  a  moderate  degree  of  care  as  to  the  pres- 
ervation, this  would  only  have  enhanced  its 
charm.  I  had  seen  many  English  churches 
quite  as  old,  but  scarcely  one  which  had  in- 
spired me  with  such  melancholy  feelings. 

Long  did  I  linger  in  the  shadowy  aisles, 
noting  the  green  stains  that  defaced  the  sup- 
porting pillars,  once  so  beautiful  in  their  spot- 
less white ;  and  then  turned  to  inspect  more 
closely  the  sculptured  decorations  of  the  grace- 
ful arches,  fast  crumbling  to  decay.  I  shiv- 
ered the  while  at  the  vault-like  dampness  of 
the  place,  for  the  stone  floor  was  uncarpeted, 
and  in  some  places  broken  and  wet,  as  though 
exposed  to  the  moisture  of  heavy  dews.  Last 
of  all,  I  approached  the  altar:  even  there  the 
same  negligence  was  but  too  plainly  visible ; 
and  with  a  saddened  spirit  I  retraced  »y  steps, 


ST.    CATHERINE  6   CHANTRY.  83 

until  I  stood  once  more  at  the  entrance  beside 
the  baptismal  font. 

I  had  completed  my  examination  of  this  an- 
cient relic,  and  was  about  to  leave  the  church, 
when  of  a  sudden  my  eye  fell  upon  a  narrow, 
dark  flight  of  stone  steps,  which  I  had  not  be- 
fore observed.  I  followed  its  intricate  and 
winding  course  until  I  emerged  upon  the  sum- 
mit of  the  square,  massive  tower,  and  looked 
forth  with  a  feeling  of  relief  upon  a  pure,  and 
peace-breathing,  and  most  lovely  landscape. 

I  had  been  seated  for  some  time  absorbed  in 
dreamy  meditation,  gazing  out  over  the  silent 
sea,  and  watching  the  rooks,  as  they  wheeled 
in  fantastic  circles  around  the  ivied  belfry 
tower,  ere  I  remembered  that  it  was  growing 
late;  that  I  had  much  to  see,  and  but  little 
time  at  my  disposal :  so  I  arose,  and  hastily 
began  to  descend  the  ruined  staircase,  not 
pausing  to  reflect  that  here,  of  all  places,  cir- 
cumspection was  requisite. 

I  soon  experienced  the  ill  effects  of  heedless- 
ness,  for  my  foot  slipped  upon  one  of  the  lower 
steps,  and  in  the  endeavor  to  prevent  myself 
from  falling,  I  instinctively  seized  hold  of  a 
heavy  rope  that  hung  from  the  roof,  and  was 
thereupon  startled  by  a  loud,  ringing  peal, 
which  resounded  through  the  lonely  aisles, 


84  THE   CHILDREN    OF 

and  then  died  away,  leaving  a  deeper  stillness 
than  before. 

For  an  instant  I  was  overpowered  by  con- 
sternation ;  and  then  the  almost  absurd  nature 
of  the  incident  flashed  upon  my  mind,  and  I 
found  it  well-nigh  impossible  to  restrain  a 
burst  of  nervous  laughter,  as  imagination  pic- 
tured the  groups  of  villagers  crowding  to  the 
church,  anxious  to  ascertain  the  cause  of  the 
unwonted  sound,  and  the  embarrassment  which 
I,  the  thoughtless  author  of  the  confusion,  would 
be  likely  to  feel  under  these  trying  circum- 
stances. But  a  timely  recollection  of  the  sanc- 
tity of  the  spot  restored  my  self-possession ; 
and  grieved  that  I  had  been  betrayed  into  even 
a  momentary  irreverence,  I  quietly  took  up  my 
station  in  the  outer  porch,  resolved  to  deliver 
as  satisfactory  an  explanation  as  possible  to  my 
eager  querists,  when  they  should  arrive. 

To  my  great  joy,  however,  no  one  appeared 
in  view  except  the  aged  sexton — a  calm,  grave 
man,  of  venerable  aspect,  with  a  mild  coun- 
tenance and  thin  silvery  locks.  "  He  had  seen 
a  gentleman  enter  the  church,"  he  said,  "  and 
had  imagined  that  the  sudden  peal  was  owing 
to  some  accident.  There  was  no  occasion  for 
me  to  be  annoyed,  for  it  was  even  doubtful 
whether  any  but  himself  had  heard  the  bell, 


ST.  CATHERINE'S  CHANTEY.  85 

or,  at  all  events,  would  pay  any  attention  to 
it ;  the  children  were  engaged  in  their  evening 
tasks ;  the  laborers  were  abroad  ;  and  their 
wives,  in  all  probability,  too  much  engrossed 
with  household  duties  to  admit  of  their  regard- 
ing any  thing  beyond."  So  I  dismissed  all 
fear  lest  I  had  beeti  a  disturber  of  the  public 
peace,  and  entered  into  conversation  with  my 
gray-headed  companion. 

Christopher  Matthews,  for  that  was  the  old 
sexton's  name,  proved  alike  intelligent  and 

agreeable.  He  had  lived  all  his  life  at  C , 

he  told  me,  and  had  only  upon  one  occasion 
been  absent  from  the  island  for  a  week.  It  was 
fourteen  years  since  he  had  held  the  position 
he  now  occupied ;  and  he  had  many  histories, 
all  full  of  warning  and  instruction,  to  relate 
concerning  those  whose  ashes  were  reposing 
beneath  the  sombre,  mournful  yew-trees,  which 
overshadowed  this  secluded  burial-ground. 

"We  were  thus  engaged,  old  Christopher  hav- 
ing reached  the  most  interesting  passage  of  a 
simple,  touching  tale  of  village  life,  and  I,  lis- 
tening to  his  words  with  deep  attention,  when 
the  current  of  my  ideas  was  diverted  in  an  un- 
expected manner.  A  group  of  children  had 
just  turned  a  corner  of  the  road,  and  were 
winding  up  the  hill,  in  the  direction  of  the 
8 


86  THE    CHILDREN    OF 

church,  and  although  they  were  still  distant,  I 
could  perceive  that  each  one  carried  a  small 
volume,  which  appeared  to  be  a  Prayer-book. 

"  Is  there  to  be  a  celebration  of  Divine  ser- 
vice here  this  afternoon  ?"  I  inquired,  turning 
quickly  to  my  companion,  and  rather  abruptly 
breaking  in  upon  the  thread  of  his  discourse. 

"  ISTo,  sir,  not  that  I  know  of,"  he  answered, 
with  evident  surprise ;  "  but  what  made  you 
think  of  it  just  now  ?" 

"Then  where  are  THEY  going?"  I  demanded, 
pointing  to  the  little  band,  which  was  at  that 
instant  passing  before  the  church-yard  gate. 

"  Oh !  I  see,  sir,"  the  old  man  answered,  with 
a  smile ;  "  those  are  the  Children  of  St.  Cath- 
erine's Chantry." 

"St.  Catherine's  Chantry,"  I  rejoined;  "can 
you  mean  the  ruined  chapel,  or  hermitage, 
which  stands  upon  the  hill  above  the  village  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir;  you  are  doubtless  well  acquainted 
with  the  spot?" 

"  No  ;  I  arrived  in  C ,  for  the  first  time, 

this  afternoon,  and  expect,  God  willing,  to 
leave  here  again  to-morrow.  I  have,  however, 
read  descriptions  of  the  scenery,  and  quite  in- 
tend visiting  St.  Catherine's  Downs  ere  night- 
fall. But  what  can  these  children  have  to  do 
with  the  old  oratory?" 


ST.  CATHERINE'S  CHANTRY.  87 

"That  I  will  tell  you  with  pleasure,"  he 
replied  ;  "  it  is  curious  enough  for  such  young 
things.  But  stay,"  he  continued,  interrupting 
himself ;  "  you  can  see  them  now,  sir,  on  the 
lowest  ridge  of  yonder  hill ;  they  will  soon  be 
out  of  sight,  for  the  path  winds  down  through 
that  ravine." 

I  followed  the  direction  of  his  eye,  and  could 
plainly  distinguish  the  little  group  of  whom 
we  had  been  speaking ;  the  two  eldest,  a  boy 
and  a  girl,  apparently  about  eleven  and  twelve, 
were  walking  side  by  side,  while  the  younger 
members  of  the  party  were  dispersed  in  glad- 
some mirth  over  the  grassy  slope,  and  in  the 
sunny  hollows;  I  could  just  catch  the  silvery 
sound  of  their  sweet,  ringing  laughter,  and  my 
heart  grew  light  as  I  dwelt  upon  this  lovely 
picture  of  child-like  innocence  and  joy. 

"  It  is  now  about  six  months,"  resumed  the 
sexton,  "since  the  Withers  family  has  been 
established  in  our  hamlet." 

"  Withers !"  I  once  more  interrupted ;  "  do 
you  mean  the  farmer's  family  from  Berk- 
shire?" 

"Yes,  sir;  if  you  are  from  that  part  of 
the  country,  you  may  know  something  of 
them?" 

"  No,"  I  replied ;  "  but  I  learned  somewhat 


88  THE    CHILDREN    OF 

of  their  history  from  Mrs.  Johnson:"  and  I 
recounted  that  part  of  my  conversation  with 
the  governess. 

"Mrs.  Johnson  has  told  you  a  great  deal 
about  the  children,"  was  his  comment,  "  but 
I  wonder  to  find  that  she  has  omitted  what  is, 
to  my  mind,  the  most  interesting  of  all.  You 
must  know  then,  sir,  that  when  the  Withers 
first  came  here  it  was  towards  the  close  of  Lent. 
Upon  the  very  afternoon  of  their  arrival,  the 
two  eldest  stopped  at  my  cottage  to  ascertain 
the  hours  of  daily  service.  I  had  to  tell  them 
that  there  were  morning  prayers  at  eleven,  on 
every  "Wednesday  and  Friday  during  Lent,  but 
that  there  was  no  week-day  service  at  other 
times  except  on  special  festivals. 

"  They  soon  learned  to  love  their  new  abode, 
and  I  am  sure  no  happier  children  can  be 
found  in  England ;  but  I  must  go  on  with  my 
story.  Throughout  Holy  Week  we  had  daily 
prayers,  and  on  no  one  occasion  were  any  of 
the  little  strangers  absent.  One  day  when  the 
congregation  had  dispersed,  and  Willie  re- 
mained alone  in  the  church-yard  with  his 
youngest  sister,  whom  Annie  had  begged  him 
to  take  charge  of  for  an  hour,  while  she  went 
upon  an  errand  for  their  mother,  I  approached 
the  boy,  of  whom  I  was  already  growing  to 


ST.  CATHERINE'S  CHANTEY.  89 

be  fond,  and  asked  whether  he  and  his  sister 
Annie  were  beginning  to  be  reconciled  to  their 
home  at  C . 

" '  We  like  the  Isle  of  Wight,  and  we  love 
you  all  here  so  much,'  he  replied,  as  he  raised 
his  soft,  dark-hazel  eyes  to  mine:  'this  week 
it  has  seemed  quite  like  Ferndale,'  he  con- 
tinued ;  ' 1  never  knew  before  it  was  possible 
to  feel  sorry  that  Easter  is  so  near.' 

" '  Because  there  will  only  be  service  after 
that  on  Sundays,  I  suppose,  you  mean.'" 

As  the  aged  narrator  paused  for  breath,  I 
said,  "  I  have  often  felt  disheartened,  when  my 
people  did  not  appear  to  value  the  holy  priv- 
ileges which  were  vouchsafed  to  them ;  but, 
perhaps,  as  in  this  .instance,  they  may  have 
been  a  source  of  comfort  to  some  of  the  tender 
lambs  among  us." 

"  I  think,  very  often,  how  much  pleased  Mr. 
Croswell,  their  former  pastor  at  Ferndale, 
would  be  to  know  that  his  efforts  were  not 
thrown  away,"  continued  Christopher ;  "  but 
I  have  not  yet  finished  what  I  had  begun  to 
tell  you.  A  few  weeks  after  Easter,  when  the 
days  began  to  lengthen,  and  the  weather  to 
become  mild  and  less  uncertain,  these  children 
were  observed,  for  three  successive  evenings, 
to  pass  along  the  road,  bearing  their  small 


90  THE    CHILDREN    OF 

Prayer-books  in  their  hands,  precisely  as  you 
have  this  moment  seen  them. 

"At  last  I  had  the  curiosity  to  inquire  of 
my  young  friends  the  reason  of  this  rather 
singular  proceeding.  "With  winning  frankness 
the  dear  children  at  once  told  me  all.  '  They 
had  been  so  afraid  lest  they  might,  in  time, 
forget  what  they  had  learned  at  Fernclale,' 
Annie  said,  '  Mr.  Croswell  had  so  constantly 
urged  them,  never,  if  they  could  possibly  avoid 
it,  to  suffer  any  thing  to  interfere  with  the 
duty  of  attending  public  worship ;  and  on  the 
very  day  that  they  had  called  at  the  rectory  to 
say  farewell,  he  advised  them,  whenever  they 
were  prevented  from  joining  in  the  public  ser- 
vices, to  make  a  point  of -reading  the  Psalms 
and  Lessons  for  the  day  in  private.  They  had 
family  prayers,  morning  and  evening,  here ; 
but  the  little  ones  were  too  young  to  sit  up 
until  nine  o'clock,  and  she  and  "Willie  were 
often  so  tired  as  to  be  scarcely  able  to  profit 
by  them.' 

"It  was  for  this  reason  that  they  had  re- 
solved to  go  every  afternoon,  when  it  should 
be  fine,  to  the  old  Chantry,  and  read  a  portion 
of  the  service  there." 

"But  why  did  they  select  St.  Catherine's 
Chantry?" 


ST.  CATHERINE'S  CHANTRY.  91 

"Well,  sir,  I  scarcely  know;  partly,  I  be- 
lieve, because  of  its  being  so  lonely  and  retired. 
Hardly  any  persons  pass  that  way,  and  they 
can  read  aloud,  and  chant  their  beautiful  an- 
thems, without  ever  being  overheard.  One 
very  still  evening,  it  is  true,  I  fancied,  while 
standing  at  my  garden-gate,  that  I  could  just 
distinguish  the  sweet  notes  of  some  sacred 
music  floating  on  the  breeze ;  but  it  was  very 
faint,  and  I  do  not  feel  at  all  sure  that  I  was 
not  mistaken." 

"And  do  you  never  accompany  them?"  I 
asked ;  "  surely  your  presence  could  not  fail  to 
be  acceptable." 

"  I  think  they  always  like  to  have  me  with 
them,"  said  old  Christopher,  with  a  quiet  smile ; 
"  but  the  road  is  more  steep,  sir,  than  you 
would  suppose ;  and  I  have,  for  many  years, 
found  it  difficult  to  climb.  Some  of  their 
school-fellows,  however,  go  occasionally,  but  it 
does  not  come  so  naturally  to  them ;  and  my 
little  niece,  Lucy  Foster,  is,  I  believe,  the  only 
one  who  perseveres.  She  is  with  her  friends 
this  evening,  and  is*  almost  as  regular  as  they 
are ;  but  you  know,  sir,  as  a  general  rule, 
children  require  to  be  brought  up  to  it,  and 
then  it  does  not  seem  strange  to  them  in  after 
life." 


92  THE   CHILDREN    OF 

"Very  true,"  I  replied;  and  I  inwardly 
formed  a  resolution  of  being  even  more  par- 
ticular than  heretofore,  in  impressing  upon  the 
younger  portion  of  my  flock  the  necessity  of 
cultivating  devout  habits  in  childhood,  since 
none  can  aright  estimate  the  unspeakable  ad- 
vantage which  such  a  course  will  prove  to  us 
in  later  years.  "  And  now,  I  must  say  good- 
bye to  you,  with  many  thanks  for  the  interest- 
ing details  yon  have  given  me,"  I  said,  turning 
once  more  to  the  venerable  sexton.  "  I  am 
going  to  stroll  slowly  in  the  direction  of  the 
Chantry,  as  I  presume  there  will  be  no  danger 
now  of  disturbing  your  little  friends." 

"None  in  the  world,  sir,"  he  answered,  as 
he  unfastened  the  gate,  and  stepped  aside  to 
let  me  pass.  "  I  dare  say  you  will  find  them 
sporting  as  merrily  as  young  lambs  upon  the 
hill-side,  for  they  seldom  return  home  till 
twilight," 

A  few  minutes'  walk  from  the  church-yard 
brought  me  to  the  foot  of  the  high  downs ; 
there  was  a  narrow  sheep-path  leading  among 
the  hills,  but  the  ascent  was  so  gradual,  that  it 
was  only  when  I  paused,  and  looking  back, 
beheld  the  sunlit  valley  lying  far  below,  that 
I  began  to  realize  the  height  on  which  I  stood. 
Towards  the  last,  however,  the  rise  became 


ST.    CATHKSQfffc*B   UHAJfTKY.  93 

more  abrupt ;  and  just  at  this  point  1  contrived 
to  uiiss  the  track,  ever  wandering  higher,  but 
still  seeing  no  trace  whatever  of  the  ancient 
chantry. 

At  length  I  discerned  the  dim  outline  of 
some  building,  evidently  in  a  ruinous  condi- 
tion, which,  upon  a  nearer  view,  proved  to  be 
a  dilapidated  light-house.  There  was  some- 
thing picturesque  in  its  appearance,  owing 
chiefly,  no  doubt,  to  the  peculiarly  desolate 
and  melancholy  character  of  the  scenery  by 
which  it  was  surrounded.  I  entered  within 
the  roofless  walls,  and  stood  listening  with  a 
sad  and  pensive  pleasure  to  the  mournful  sigh- 
ing of  the  autumn  wind  as  it  swept  over  the 
barren  moor.  Suddenly — with  scarcely,  as  it 
seemed,  a  moment's  notice — the  wind  died 
quite  away ;  then  it  rose  again,  with  more  re- 
sistless power,  rushing  in  fitful  gusts  across 
the  waste,  while  still  louder,  and  yet  more 
loud,  swelled  its  mysterious  and  wild  min- 
strelsy. Then  came  a  long,  crashing  peal  of 
thunder,  followed  by  a  flash  of  lightning,  so 
intensely  keen,  that  instinctively  I  closed  my 
eyes,  and  retreated  into  the  darkest  corner  of 
the  ruin. 

A  moment's  reflection,  however,  convinced 
me  that  there  would,  in  all  likelihood,  be  less 


94  THE   CHILDREN    OF 

danger  in  the  open  air,  and  I  resolved  upon 
making  an  attempt  to  regain  the  village.  Had 
I  been  aware  of  the  direction  in  which  St. 
Catherine's  Chantry  lay,  I  should  at  once  have 
hastened  to  the  succor  of  the  helpless  children, 
who  might,  perchance,  have  been,  like  myself, 
overtaken  by  the  fury  of  the  gale ;  but  I  did 
not  even  know  which  way  to  turn ;  and  while 
I  was  still  looking  down  upon  the  valley, 
where  the  glory  of  a  stormy  sunset  rested, 
heavy  wreaths  of  mist  came  rolling  up  the 
mountain-side ;  black,  lowering  clouds  gath- 
ered like  a  curtain  over  the  face  of  the  blue 
sky ;  and  then  the  rain  broke  upon  me  with 
fierce,  relentless  force,  until  I  was  for  a  time 
fairly  blinded  by  the  violence  of  the  tempest. 

On  and  on  I  struggled,  not  knowing  whither 
I  was  borne ;  now  standing  still  to  avoid  being 
carried  down  the  slope,  and  anon  driven  like 
a  forest-leaf  before  the  whirling  blast.  Of  one 
thing,  however,  I  felt  certain,  I  was  attaining 
a  greater  elevation,  not  as  I  had  at  first  hoped, 
making  my  descent  into  the  bosom  of  the  shel- 
tered vale.  Finally,  all  involuntary  progress 
was  arrested  by  a  rough  stone  wall,  to  which  I 
clung  in  desperation,  determined  to  await  with 
patience  until  the  war  of  the  elements  should 
in  some  measure  subside.  My  very  natural 


ST.  CATHERINE'S  CHANTRY.  95 

feeling  of  curiosity  to  gain  some  notion  of  my 
whereabouts  was  not  long  in  being  gratified, 
for  a  flash  of  lightning  soon  revealed  the  scene, 
rendered  for  an  instant  distinctly  visible  in  the 
lurid  glare. 

Beyond  the  wall  already  mentioned,  stretched 
a  treeless  moor,  as  brown  and  uncultivated  as 
imagination  can  conceive,  in  the  midst  of  which 
rose  up  abruptly  a  steep  and  almost  precipitous 
peak,  crowned  at  its  very  summit  by  one  of  the 
most  extraordinary  edifices  I  have  ever  seen. 
I  do  not  believe  that  I  can  describe  it ;  for  it 
will  often  happen  that  those  objects  which, 
when  taken  as  a  whole,  combine  to  make  the 
deepest  and  most  indelible  impression  on  the 
mind,  are  at  the  same  time  less  accurately 
shadowed  forth  by  memory  in  their  minuter 
details. 

The  building  itself  was  of  gray  stone — that 
at  least  I  can  remember — and  I  know,  too,  that 
it  was  lofty :  composed  of  one  single,  slender- 
pointed  tower,  which,  notwithstanding  its 
slight  proportions,  conveyed  the  idea  of  dura- 
bility and  massive  strength.  There  was  a 
large  aperture  on  the  side  nearest  to  me, 
which  had  once,  in  all  probability,  served  the 
purpose  of  a  window ;  it  had  a  strange,  goblin- 
like  appearance  now,  and  at  first  sight  called 


96  THE    CHILDREN    OF 

up  some  of  those  vague,  nervous  feelings  that 
are  apt  to  be  suggested  by  the  perusal  of  a 
German  fairy-tale.  But  a  more  soothing  train 
of  thought  succeeded.  From  that  dark,  lonely 
tower  had  once  streamed  forth  the  beacon-light 
which,  to  the  mariner  tossed  on  the  bosom  of 
the  surging  billows,  had  doubtless  often  shone 
as  a  bright  star  of  hope,  and  pledge  of  peace 
and  safety. 

Low,  solemn  chants  had  also  mingled  of  yore 
with  the  wild  music  of  the  midnight  blast ;  and 
the  voice  of  the  solitary  hermit-priest,  the  sole 
dweller  on  that  isolated  peak,  had  been  con- 
tinually raised  in  supplication  for  those  who 
might  chance  to  be  exposed  to  all  the  perils 
and  horrors  of  the  mighty  deep. 

Perhaps  it  was  some  unconscious  feeling  of 
reverence  for  a  spot  thus  consecrated  by  the 
prayers  of  Christians,  in  early  days,  which  had 
induced  the  children  to  select  this  ancient  ora- 
tory as  the  scene  of  their  simple,  but  sublime 
devotions.  At  all  events,  I  liked  to  think  so, 
and  it  was  pleasant  to  reflect  that  the  place 
which  had  of  old  been  hallowed  was  thus  ren- 
dered sacred  even  now. 

Taking  advantage  of  a  temporary  cessation 
of  the  storm,  I  lost  no  time  in  scaling  the  high 
inclosure,  and  resolutely  following  on  the  up- 


ST.    CATHERINE  6   CHANTRY.  97 

ward  course ;  after  much  hard  labor,  I  finally 
attained  the  desired  position,  and  stood  tri- 
umphantly upon  the  top  of  St.  Catherine's 
Hill,  the  loftiest  point  of  land  in  the  whole 
island,  being  just  nine  hundred  feet  above  the 
level  of  the  sea. 

The  tempest  was  evidently  beginning  to 
abate,  although  the  heavens  were  still  wrapt 
in  gloom,  and  the  wailing  wind  was  yet  heard 
at  intervals.  But  a  great  change  had  surely 
taken  place,  either  in  the  aspect  of  outward 
nature,  or  in  the  frame  of  my  own  mind.  I 
was  no  longer  oppressed  with  a  sense  of  awe 
so  profound  as  almost  to  deserve  the  name  of 
terror ;  softer  emotions  took  possession  of  my 
soul,  and  the  beautiful  lines  of  Coleridge,  de- 
scriptive of  those  thrilling  strains  which,  from 
time  to  time  burst  from  the  spirits  of  the  gale, 
recurred  to  my  memory : 

"  And  now  'tis  like  all  instruments, 

Now  like  a  lonely  flute ; 
And  now  it  is  an  angel's  song, 
That  makes  the  heavens  be  mute." 

At  the  same  moment  a  pale,  silvery  streak 

brightened  the  edge  of  a  dark  mass  of  clouds, 

and  soon  the  full,  round  moon  beamed  forth, 

shedding  a  mild  and  tender  lustre  over  the 

9 


98  THE    CHILDREN    OF 

mountain  solitude.  It  was  not  yet  sufficiently 
settled  to  admit  of  my  returning  to  the  inn,  so 
I  determined  to  seek  the  refuge  which  was 
close  at  hand,  and  there  to  abide  the  issue  of 
events ;  but  upon  nearing  the  entrance  of  the 
chantry,  I  fancied  that  I  clearly  heard  the 
sound  of  a  sweet,  melodious  voice,  and  pausing 
to  listen  I  found  that  I  was  not  mistaken.  The 
tone  was  that  of  childhood,  and  the  words 
those  of  the  Second  Collect  appointed  for  the 
daily  Evening  Service,  the  form  of  which  has 
been  slightly  altered  in  our  American  edition 
of  the  Prayer-book,  but  which,  in  its  present 
version,  seemed  to  me  even  more  appropriate 
to  the  time  and  place. 

"  Lighten  our  darkness,  we  beseech  Thee,  O 
Lord !  and  by  Thy  great  mercy  defend  us  from 
all  perils  and  dangers  of  this  night,  for  the 
love  of  Thy  only  Son,  our  Saviour,  Jesus 
Christ."  There  was  a  low,  responsive  "  Amen" 
breathed  in  several  voices,  and  then  followed 
an  unbroken  stillness. 

I  can  scarcely  imagine  the  effect  which  this 
extraordinary  scene  would  have  produced  upon 
me,  but  for  my  previous  knowledge  of  the  cir- 
cumstances I  have  narrated.  As  it  was,  the 
incident,  although  wholly  unforeseen,  was  yet 
one  for  which  I  could  account.  These  were, 


ex.  CATHERINE'S  CHANTRY.  99 

beyond  all  doubt,  the  Children  of  St.  Cather- 
ine's Chantry ;  and  with  a  fear  that  my  too 
sudden  appearance  might  create  alarm,  I  turned 
away,  in  order  to  reflect  upon  my  further  move- 
ments. 

There  was  a  calm,  deep  hush  brooding  over 
all  the  landscape  ;  the  stars  were  glittering  in 
their  azure  vault,  and  the  tremulous  brightness 
of  the  moonbeams  played  upon  the  surface  of 
the  waters,  and  silvered  even  the  gray  chantry 
walls.  Within  the  tower  itself,  however,  no 
ray  of  light  appeared  to  penetrate;  all  was 
enveloped  in  mysterious  darkness,  until  at 
length,  as  the  fair  orb  of  night  rode  higher 
and  higher  in  the  heavens,  a  quivering  radiance 
partially  dispelled  the  gloom,  revealing  the 
faint  outline  of  a  lovely  group. 

The  soft,  pale  light  streamed  full  upon  the 
central  figure.  It  was  that  of  a  little  maiden, 
seated  upon  the  stone  floor,  with  one  arm 
resting  for  support  against  a  projection  that 
had  once  formed  part  of  a  staircase,  winding 
round  the  interior  of  the  tower;  while  the 
other  entwined  a  cherub  boy,  seemingly  some 
few  years  younger  than  the  girl,  whose  face 
beamed  with  the  mingled  expression  of  a 
mother's  tenderness  and  a  sister's  pride,  as 
she  bent  over  the  fair  head,  shaded  by  its 


100  THE    CHILDREN    OF 

clustering  golden  ringlets,  which  nestled  on 
her  bosom. 

Around  were  scattered  other  forms,  shadowy 
and  indistinct,  and  the  breathless  silence  that 
had  at  first  excited  my  surprise,  was  now 
clearly  explained ;  unquestionably,  it  was  a 
dread  lest  the  babe's  tranquil  sleep  should  be 
disturbed.  There  is  a  spell  in  the  repose  of 
infant  innocence,  of  which  all,  even  the  most 
thoughtless,  must,  I  am  persuaded,  own  the 
power,  and  I  felt  as  though  I  could  not  venture 
to  dissolve  the  charm. 

But  the  evening  was  already  far  advanced, 
for  the  storm  had  been  of  long  duration,  and  I 
was  quite  aware  that  the  shelter  of  a  comfort- 
able home  would  be  more  conducive  to  the 
health  and  well-being  of  us  all  than  a  pro- 
tracted exposure  to  the  chill  night  air,  laden 
with  heavy  vapors.  Therefore  I  approached 
the  window,  intending  to  announce  myself  as 
a  protector  to  the  children,  and  fully  confident 

of  my  ability  to  conduct  them  to  C in 

safety. 

"  Is  not  this  St.  Catherine's  Chantry  2"  I  in- 
quired, speaking  very  gently,  in  order  not  to 
awaken  apprehension;  but  I  need  not  have 
been  so  scrupulous,  for  there  is  a  fearless  con- 
fidence in  childhood,  which,  knowing  little  of 


ST.  CATHERINE'S  CBANTKY.  lOi 

evil,  has  not  yet  learned  to  suspect  its  pres- 
ence. 

"Yes,  sir,  this  is  the  chantry,"  replied  a 
boyish  voice  ;  and  the  speaker,  rising  from  the 
furthest  recess  in  which  he  had  been  ensconced, 
came  forward  slowly  into  the  moonlight;  "per- 
haps you  have  lost  your  way  in  the  thunder- 
storm," he  continued.  "  "Will  you  not  come  in 
and  take  a  seat  until  the  rain  is  over  ?" 

"  It  is  not  raining  now,"  I  said ;  "  do  you 
not  see  how  brightly  the  moonbeams  dance 
upon  the  water  ?" 

"  It  was  storming  heavily  when  I  last  looked 
out,"  he  answered,  "  although  even  then  there 
was  a  path  of  light  upon  the  sea ;  but  now 
that  it  is  once  more  fine,  and  the  wind  less 
boisterous,  our  father  will  be  able  to  come  up 
for  us,  I  know." 

"  Are  you  afraid,  then,  to  return  to  C 

alone  ?"  I  asked. 

"  No,  not  afraid,"  the  boy  replied ;  "  but  his 
father  would  not  like  him  to  descend  St.  Cath- 
erine's Hill  after  nightfall,  more  especially  with 
his  young  sisters,  and  their  infant  charge.  His 
parents  had  both  warned  him  against  making 
any  such  attempt,  in  case  they  should  ever 
chance  to  be  involved  in  such  an  adventure  as 
had  actually  befallen  them  ;  a  circumstance  far 
90 


102  THE    CHILDREN    OF 

from  improbable,  as  the  event  of  a  sudden 
storm  in  these  regions  is  by  no  means  uncom- 
mon. 

"Do  you  think  your  parents  would  object 
to  your  returning  home  under  my  care  ?"  I  in- 
quired ;  "  it  might  save  them  from  some  anx- 
iety on  your  account." 

"  Oh !  they  will  not  be  anxious,"  said  a  low, 
girlish  voice.  "  Mother  has  often  said,  that 
she  would  trust  us  anywhere  with  Willie." 

"  Except  to  wander  about  the  downs  at 
night,  I  suppose  you  mean,  Annie,"  rejoined 
her  brother,  with  a  smile ;  and  then  turning  to 
me,  he  added :  "  My  father  once  slipped  down, 
after  dark,  into  a  hollow  of  this  very  hill,  wrhen 

he  was  staying  as  a  little  boy  at  C ;  and 

as  he  broke  his  arm,  and  suffered  greatly  for  a 
long  time  afterwards,  it  is  that,  I  dare  say, 
that  makes  him  so  particular  about  us." 

"  Yes,  it  could  hardly  be  otherwise,"  I  an- 
swered ;  "  and  since  I  am  quite  a  stranger  in 
these  parts,  I  should  like  to  remain  with  you, 
if  you  have  no  objection,  rather  than  run  any 
risk  of  leading  you  into  danger,  or  of  falling 
into  it  myself,  for  that  matter.  Do  you  think 
your  father  will  guide  me  to  the  village  when 
he  comes  to  seek  you  ?" 

"  Oh !  yes,  sir,  I  am  very  sure  he  will,"  said 


ST.  CATHEKIXE'S  CUANTKY.  103 

Annie ;  "  and  I  think  we  may  expect  him  every 
moment  now.  Will  you  not  come  in  and  rest  ?" 
she  added,  moving  aside  so  as  to  leave  room 
for  me  to  seat  myself. 

"  Thank  you,"  I  replied ;  "  it  is  so  pleasant 
here,  that  I  believe  I  will  linger  and  enjoy  the 
air.  This  is  a  singular  spot,"  I  continued  : 
"old  Christopher,  the  sexton,  tells  me  that 
you  come  here  very  often." 

"Yes,  nearly  every  evening,"  answered 
"W  illie.  "  It  is  so  quiet,  and  it  seems  almost 
like  a  church." 

"And  do  you  begin  to  love  St.  Catherine's 
Chantry  as  much  as  the  little  church  at  Fern- 
dale  ?"  I  inquired. 

"  Ferrdale !"  he  exclaimed,  while  his  eyes 
sparkled  at  sound  of  the  familiar  name ;  "  oh, 
no,  that  is  impossible !  But  have  you  ever 
been  there,  sir,  and  do  you  know  Mr.  Cros- 
well?" 

"No,  I  have  never  visited  your  Berkshire 
home,"  I  replied ;  "  but  I  can  quite  well  under- 
stand how  sorry  you  must  have  been  to  leave 
it.  Old  Christopher  has  given  me  a  sketch  ot 
your  story ;  and  I  was  glad  to  hear  that  you  so 
highly  prized  the  blessings  which  you  there 
enjoyed,  and  that  although  they  are  withdrawn 
for  a  season,  you  still  endeavor  to  keep  up  the 


104  THE    CHILDREN    OF 

habits  which  your  excellent  rector  took  such 
pains  to  inculcate.1' 

"  Yes,  sir ;  we  try  not  to  forget  what  Mr. 
Croswell  taught  us,"  replied  Willie,  "  and  we 
like  very  much  to  come  here  and  read  the 
prayers ;  but  it  is  much  pleasanter  to  hare  a 
clergyman." 

"  That,"  I  rejoined,  "  is  a  feeling  into  which  I 
can  fully  enter ;  yet  still,  dear  children,  perse- 
vere, and  be  assured  that  a  Divine  blessing 
will  rest  upon  your  feeble  efforts.  You,  Willie, 
and  your  eldest  sister,  have  a  peculiar  respon- 
sibility," I  continued,  "for  you  have  enjoyed 
the  advantages  resulting  from  a  regular  attend- 
ance upon  public  worship,  at  an  age  when  you 
were  fitted  to  appreciate  them,  and  thus  you 
have  a  great  duty  to  discharge  towards  the 
little  ones,  who  \vill  not  fail  to  be  strongly  in- 
fluenced by  your  example." 

"  Yes,"  observed  Annie ;  "  Mr.  Croswell  told 
us  that  we  should  try  to  remember  this  when- 
ever wre  are  tempted  to  do  wrong ;  and  that  is 
very  often,"  she  added,  with  a  sigh. 

"And,  therefore,  we  must  not  trust  in  our 
own  strength,"  I  said;  "for,  as  the  Church 
Catechism  expresses  it,  we  '  cannot  walk  in 
God's  commandments,  nor  serve  Him,  without 
His  special  grace,  which  we  must  learn  at  all 


ST.  CATHERINE'S  CHANTRY.  105 

times  to  call  for  by  diligent  prayer ;'  but  this, 
I  hope  and  believe,  you  do  not  neglect.  I  am 
a  clergyman ;  and  should  I  be  permitted  to 
regain  my  distant  home  in  safety,  I  will  think 
particularly  of  you  when  I  am  performing  the 
service  in  my  little  parish  church,  beneath  the 
bright  blue  skies  of  Florida,  for  you  know  that 
'  we  are  all  members  one  of  another.' " 

"  And  since  you  are  a  clergyman,  will  you 
say  some  of  the  Collects  for  us  now  ?"  pleaded 
the  little  boy,  with  a  singular  blending  of 
timidity  and  earnestness. 

It  was  with  great  satisfaction  that  I  acceded 
to  this  request ;  and  entering  within  the  time- 
worn  walls,  I  knelt,  surrounded  by  the  chil- 
dren, in  that  ancient  chantry,  and  repeated 
several  of  those  prayers  in  which  we  all  found 
such  delight.  When  the  sacred  duty  was  con- 
cluded, I  resumed  the  conversation  with  my 
youthful  friends,  and  was  alike  charmed  with 
their  intelligence  and  simplicity.  As  time 
passed,  however,  I  became  uneasy  at  the  good 
farmer's  non-appearance,  and  was  just  endeav- 
oring to  decide  whether  or  not  it  would  be 
prudent  to  wait  any  longer  in  the  hope  of  his 
arrival,  when  all  at  once  we  heard  the  sound 
of  voices ;  and  Lucy  Foster,  a  timid,  gentle 
child,  who  had  not  until  then  ventured  upon  a 


106  THE   CHILDREN    OF 

remark,  declared  that  Uncle  Christopher  was 
of  the  party.  I  smiled  rather  incredulously 
at  this  announcement,  but  the  next  instant  I 
heard  the  old  man  anxiously  inquiring  if  the 
children  were  quite  safe. 

"  Yes,  they  are  quite  safe,"  I  replied,  as  I 
advanced  to  meet  him ;  "  but  how  is  it  that 
you  have  gained  strength  and  courage  to 
ascend  St.  Catherine's  Hill  at  this  late  hour?" 

"  Oh  !  are  you  here,  sir  ?"  he  exclaimed  with 
joy;  "I  had  hoped  it  might  be  so  ;  and,  per- 
haps, it  was  not  right  of  me  to  come,  for  my 
good  neighbor  would  have  reached  here  long 
ago,  if  he  had  not  been  obliged  to  stop  for  me 
so  often,  when  I  was  out  of  breath ;  but  I  felt 
unhappy  about  the  children,  and  could  not 
bear  to  let  him  go  alone." 

"You  see  there  was  no  occasion  to  be 
troubled,  Uncle  Christopher,"  said  the  stout 
farmer,  coming  up  to  where  we  stood ;  "  I  told 
you  we  could  trust  to  their  staying  quietly 
where  they  were.  How  now,  my  boys  and 
girls,"  he  continued,  in  a  cheerful  tone,  as  we 
came  near  the  hermitage,  "  are  you  ready  to 
go  home,  or  should  you  prefer  staying  here  all 
night  ?" 

"Mother  has  not  been  anxious,  has  she?" 
inquired  Annie. 


ST.  CATHERINE'S  CHANTRY.  107 

"  No,  to  be  sure  not,"  said  her  father ;  "  but 
I  dare  say  she  will  be  as  well  pleased  to  have 
you  back  again :  so  now  we  will  set  out,  if  you 
please,  sir,"  he  added,  turning  to  address  me. 

Our  progress  down  the  slippery  steep  was 
slow,  but  fortunately  accomplished  without 
any  accident.  The  farmer  went  first,  carry- 
ing his  infant  boy,  and  leading  his  youngest 
daughter  by  the  hand ;  Willie  followed  next, 
with  Lucy  Foster  and  his  sister  Annie ;  while 
I  brought  up  the  rear,  with  little  Freddy  and 
old  Christopher  on  either  side.  In  this  way 
we  reached  the  village ;  and  when  we  arrived 
opposite  the  church,  I  was  obliged  to  take 
leave  of  my  interesting  companions.  The  fare- 
well was  a  sad  one,  as  it  seemed  improbable 
that  in  this  world  we  should  ever  meet  again ; 
but  it  was  a  great  pleasure  to  have  formed  this 
friendship,  for  its  memory  is  precious  to  me 
now,  and  I  trust  that  in  a  future  state  our  in- 
tercourse will  be  renewed. 

I  left  C early  upon  the  ensuing  day, 

and  after  a  short  and  pleasant  drive  arrived  at 
Newport.  My  first  visit  was  to  the  principal 
bookseller  in  the  little  town,  of  whom  I  pur- 
chased a  Church  Service,  simply  but  neatly 
bound,  ornamented  with  a  cross  and  a  gilt- 
clasp.  This  I  inclosed  in  a  parcel,  directed  to 


108       CHILDREN  OF  ST.  CATHERINE'S  CHANTRY. 

the  good  old  sexton,  accompanied  by  a  note,  in 
which  I  requested  him  to  present  the  volume, 
as  a  token  of  affectionate  remembrance  from 
an  American  clergyman,  to 


.  datfcmne's  Cjplrg." 


SAND    DRAWINGS. 


"  Little  deeds  of  kindness, 

Little  words  of  love, 
Make  our  earth  an  Eden, 
Like  the  heaven  above." 


HE  morning  had  been  cold  and 
comfortless.  It  was  just  such 
weather  as  one  is  often  called 
upon  to  endure  in  England, 
throughout  the  proverbially 
gloomy  season  of  November. 
By  twelve  o'clock,  however,  the  dull,  leaden 
bank  of  clouds,  which  had  for  several  days 
hung  ominously  over  the  landscape,  began  to 
exhibit  a  less  hopeless  aspect ;  the  pouring 
rain  subsided,  by  degrees,  into  a  misty  drizzle, 
which,  in  its  turn,  passed  away :  and  when  a 
streak  of  very  pale  blue  sky  was  at  length 
visible,  little  Ida  Herbert,  a  merry  child  of  six 
years  old,  who  had  been  stationed  for  the  last 
ten  minutes  beside  the  bow-casement,  in  the 
pleasant  drawing-room  of  "Whitethorn  Lodge, 
10 


110  SAXD    DRAWINGS. 

burst  into  a  joyous  laugh,  and  ran  away  to 
seek  her  elder  sister,  whom  she  found  ever 
ready  to  participate  in  her  pleasures. 

"  Edward  and  I  shall  be  able  to  go  to  the 
woods  with  nurse  this  afternoon,"  she  exclaim- 
ed, dancing  like  a  fairy  of  the  sunbeam  about 
the  spacious  chamber.  "  O  Carrie !  are  you 
not  delighted  to  see  this  lovely  day  at  last, 
and  are  you  not  in  a  great  hurry  to  have  din- 
ner over?" 

"  Yes,  indeed ;  this  glimpse  of  sunshine  is 
most  cheering,  and  I  hope  sincerely  that  you 
may  enjoy  your  walk,  my  darling :  provided 
that  it  still  continues  fair,  and  that  mamma 
does  not  object,"  replied  Caroline,  who  wisely 
refrained  from  casting  a  shade  over  Ida's  joyful 
anticipations,  by  saying  how  extremely  im- 
probable she  considered  both  contingencies. 
It  is  far  better  to  trust  that  the  good  sense  of 
children  will  enable  them  to  bear  a  disappoint- 
ment, than  to  damp  their  ardor  upon  all  oc- 
casions by  predicting  difficulties,  which  may 
prove  but  visionary  in  the  end. 

""Will  you  not  come  with  us,  Carrie?"  in- 
quired little  Ida,  in  a  coaxing  tone,  as  she 
twined  one  of  her  sister's  dark  curls  around 
her  finger. 

"  No,  I  cannot  this  afternoon,"  said  Caroline. 


SAND    DRAWINGS.  Ill 

"I  ought  to  visit  poor  old  Bridget  Simpson, 
and  Thomas  Brown's  sick  grandchild  ;  you 
know  it  is  now  three  days  since  we  have  heard 
news  of  either." 

"Yes,  only  I  cannot  spare  you,"  said  the 
child ;  "  I  should  like  to  keep  you  always  to 
myself." 

"  But  I  think  you  will  be  able  to  manage 
without  me  for  two  hours,  and  I  do  not  expect 
to  try  your  patience  longer,"  returned  Caro 
line,  laughing.  "  So  now  you  shall  come  with 
me  to  the  store-room,  and  help  me  pack  my 
basket,"  she  continued,  as  she  took  a  key  from 
her  work-box,  and  led  the  way  up-stairs. 

"What  do  you  mean  to  take?"  demanded 
Ida,  looking  round  upon  the  well-filled  shelves. 

"  Mamma  said  that  I  might  have  some  rice 
and  sugar,  with  ajar  of  currant-jelly,  and  any 
thing  else  that  I  thought  best,"  answered  Caro 
line ;  "  so  now  we  will  decide  together.  Here 
is  a  seed-cake,  which  looks  nice  and  fresh,  and 
there  is  the  remainder  of  those  sugar-biscuits 
that  Gerald  brought  us  from  New  York." 

"  Oh !  but  Carrie,  there  is  nothing  that  you 
like  so  much,"  remonstrated  the  little  girl. 

"  Yes,"  rejoined  her  sister ;  "  but  I  am  the 
only  one  of  the  family  who  fancies  them,  and 
you  know  that  I  am  strong  and  able  to 


112  SAND    DRAWINGS. 

all  my  meals  with  a  good  appetite ;  whereas 
Dame  Bridget  has  been  ill  for  many  months, 
and  is  so  weak  that  she  can  scarcely  take  any 
nourishment  at  all.  Perhaps  these  little  cakes, 
being  so  light  and  delicate,  may  tempt  her, 
and  she  may  be  able  to  like  them  with  her  cup 
of  tea." 

"  Oh !  I  have  thought  of  something  she  will 
be  certain  to  enjoy,"  cried  Ida.  "You  remem- 
ber the  fine  hot-house  grapes  which  mamma 
gave  me  yesterday  ?  I  laid  them  aside  until 
to-day,  because  it  was  too  late  to  eat  them  ;  so 
now  you  will  put  them  for  me  in  the  basket, 
will  you  not,  dear  sister  ?" 

"  I  will,  indeed,  my  love,"  said  Caroline ; 
"  and  I  am  sure  that  you  will  feel  rewarded  for 
this  trifling  act  of  self-denial,  by  the  reflection 
that  what  would  have  been  merely  an  article 
of  luxury  to  yourself  may  prove  a  real  com- 
fort to  an  infirm  and  aged  fellows-creature ;  and 
while  thus  striving  to  relieve  the  sufferings  of 
others,  you  will  experience  the  truth  and  beauty 
of  our  Saviour's  precept,  that '  it  is  more  blessed 
to  give  than  to  receive.' " 

Ida  seemed  pensive  for  a  moment  at  the  con- 
clusion of  this  sentence ;  and  then  upon  hear- 
ing the  bell,  which  summoned  the  whole  family 
to  their  early  dinner,  she  bounded  gayly  down 


SANU    DRAWINGS.  113 

the  staircase,  and  soon  emerged  from  the  pan- 
try bearing  the  luscious  fruit,  which  was  duly 
deposited  by  her  own  hand  at  the  top  of  the 
small,  round  Brighton  basket — Caroline's  in- 
separable companion  on  her  various  missions 
of  love  among  the  sick  and  destitute.  The 
clouds  once  more  gathered  while  they  were 
seated  at  the  table ;  but  as  both  the  children 
looked  pale  and  languid,  from  want  of  the 
exercise  to  which  they  were  accustomed,  Mrs. 
Herbert  was  induced  to  yield  to  Ida's  en- 
treaties, and  consent  that  they  should  try  to 
secure  a  short  walk  in  the  interval  between 
the  showers :  "  only  they  must  not  go  into  the 
woods,"  she  said,  "and  on  no  account  were 
they  to  sit  down  in  the  open  air."  So,  thank- 
ful for  even  this  permission,  Ida  and  Edward 
set  forth  upon  a  ramble  with  their  nurse,  and 
Caroline  was  not  long  in  following  their  ex- 
ample. 

It  was  miserably  cheerless  out  of  doors ;  the 
ground  was  saturated  with  the  recent  rain,  and 
the  yellow  leaves  which  strewed  the  gravel- 
walk  spoke  sadly  of  the  short-lived  joys  of 
summer.  There  was  no  inducement  to  prolong 
one's  walk  ;  and  Caroline  having  satisfactorily 
accomplished  her  visits,  both  of  which  were 
in  the  immediate  neighborhood,  returned  in 
10* 


114:  SAND   DRAWINGS. 

little  more  than  an  hour's  time  to  Whitethorn. 
How  bright  and  ruddy  seemed  the  blazing 
lire;  and  how  unusually  comfortable  and  in- 
viting was  the  cozy  drawing-room,  with  its 
rich,  warm  crimson  curtains  and  its  easy-chairs ! 
Caroline  felt  inclined  to  linger,  for  she  was 
chilled  and  tired ;  but  she  resisted  the  temp- 
tation to  indolence,  which  was  one  of  her 
peculiar  failings,  and  proceeded  at  once  up- 
stairs to  divest  herself  of  her  wrappings,  and 
to  ascertain  whether  her  mother  had  occasion 
for  her  services. 

Mrs.  Herbert,  who  was  a  confirmed  invalid, 
had  fallen  asleep  in  an  arm-chair  beside  the 
fire,  in  her  own  apartment.  Caroline  placed  a 
screen  so  as  to  shield  her  from  the  draught ;  and 
then  having  gently  drawn  a  light  silk  shawl 
around  her  shoulders,  she  again  descended  to 
the  drawing-room,  where,  seating  herself  be- 
fore her  desk,  she  commenced  a  letter  to  an  old 
and  valued  friend,  who  had  formerly  been  her 
mother's  governess.  Before  she  had  reached 
the  second  page  of  her  epistle,  the  door  was 
thrown  wide  open,  and  the  two  children  ran 
into  the  room,  with  cheeks  all  rosy-red,  from 
the  effects  of  their  walk  in  the  chill,  wintry 
air. 

"It  was  not  pleasant  out  of  doors,"  said  Ida, 


SAND   DRAWINGS.  115 

in  reply  to  her  sister's  question  as  to  the  reason 
of  their  having  returned  so  soon ;  "  it  was  cold 
and  wet,  and  we  felt  too  tired  to  go  farther, 
since  nurse  would  not  allow  us  to  sit  down  and 
rest ;  so  we  begged  her  to  bring  us  back  that 
we  might  play  at  baby-house  in  the  warm 
nursery,  instead." 

"  I  should  think  that  much  more  agreeable," 
answered  Caroline,  "/was  by  no  means  sorry 
to  find  myself  at  home  again ;  but  I  am  glad 
I  went  out,  notwithstanding.  Dear  little  Mary 
Brown  appeared  so  pleased  to  see  me,  and 
Dame  Bridget  was  delighted  with  your  pres- 
ent, Ida.  She  said  that  she  would  keep  the 
fresh,  cooling  grapes  to  take  at  night,  when 
she  often  lies  awake,  feeling  feverish  and 
thirsty." 

"  Well,  1  will  put  by  a  part  of  every  thing 
nice  that  is  given  to  me  for  her,"  rejoined  Ida ; 
"  but  Eddie  will  be  waiting  for  me  to  begin 
our  game,"  she  added,  as  she  crossed  the  room, 
and  suddenly  returning,  said :  "  O  Carrie !  I 
forgot  to  show  you  these  red  berries  that  we 
found  growing  under  a  hedge  by  the  road-side. 
Are  they  not  very  large  and  beautiful  ?" 

"Yes,  they  are  of  a  most  brilliant  color," 
replied  Caroline,  as  she  carefully  took  the 
heavy  clusters  from  her  sister's  hand.  "  They 


116  8 AND   DRAWINGS. 

are  the  seed-cups  of  the  golden  lily,"  she  con- 
tinued ;  "  I  have  often  admired  that  very  slen- 
der stem,  supporting  the  brown  shrivelled  pod, 
all  studded  with  rows  of  glowing  coral :  but 
what  do  you  intend  to  do  with  them  ?" 

"I  think  they  will  look  beautiful  in  your 
moss-basket,"  answered  Ida. 

"  Well  then,  dear,  will  you  arrange  them  ? 
Only  be  careful,  please,  not  to  injure  that 
moss  with  pale-pink  bells,  for  it  is  extremely 
fragile." 

"  But  you  will  do  it  much  better,"  pleaded 
Ida,  "and  then  there  will  be  no  danger  of 
harming  any  thing ;  it  will  not  take  you  one 
minute,  darling  Carrie,  and  I  shall  be  so  much 
obliged  to  you." 

"I  suppose,  then,  I  must  try,"  answered 
Caroline,  smiling ;  "  so  run  away  to  Edward 
now,  and  you  shall  judge  of  my  success  at  tea- 
time." 

As  soon  as  Ida  had  departed  to  the  nursery, 
Caroline  betook  herself  to  the  task  which  her 
little  sister  had  imposed  upon  her.  Time  was 
just  then  more  than  usually  precious,  for  she 
was  desirous  of  concluding  her  letter  before 
the  mail  should  close,  and  also  of  finishing  a 
book  of  travels,  which  it  was  necessary  to  send 
home  early  on  the  morrow.  The  one  was  an 


SAND   DRAWINGS.  117 

important  duty,  but  in  the  other  case  only  her 
own  gratification  was  involved ;  so  Caroline 
resolved  to  make  the  sacrifice,  and  accordingly 
devoted  more  than  twenty  minutes  to  the 
manufacture  of  a  tiny  vase,  composed  of  dark, 
glossy  bay-leaves,  and  filled  with  the  smallest 
and  brightest  of  the  berries,  while  the  remain- 
der were  tastefully  intermingled  with  the  rare 
specimens  of  flowering  mosses,  which  a  friend 
had  sent  her  from  America.  Having  thus 
made  provision  for  Ida's  entertainment,  Caro- 
line resumed  her  interrupted  letter ;  but  there 
really  seemed  a  spell  upon  her  correspondence, 
for  she  had  hardly  written  half  a  dozen  lines 
before  she  was  again  disturbed. 

This  time  the  intruder  was  a  noble-looking 
boy,  between  fifteen  and  sixteen  years  of  age, 
attired  in  a  midshipman's  uniform,  and  from 
his  striking  resemblance  to  both  Caroline  and 
Ida,  evidently  a  member  of  the  family. 

"  Why,  Gerald,"  exclaimed  Caroline,  as  she 
laughingly  drew  an  arm-chair  to  the  fire,  "  I 
thought  you  were  too  good  a  sailor  to  be  driven 
home  by  a  slight  shower  of  rain ;  did  you  not 
succeed  in  reaching  Laurelton  ?" 

"  Yes,  to  be  sure,  I  did,"  replied  her  brother, 
as  he  stood  negligently  leaning  against  the 
mantel-piece ;  "  but  Harry  Ashurst  is  in  Lon- 


118  SAND   DRAWINGS. 

don,  and  so  I  hurried  back  to  take  you  for  a 
walk,  as  there  is  something  about  which  I  wish 
especially  to  talk  with  yon." 

"  But  it  is  so  damp  and  chilly,"  began  poor 
Caroline,  in  a  tone  of  remonstrance ;  "  and 
here  there  will  be  nobody  to  interrupt  us,  for 
mamma  has  fallen  asleep  in  her  own  room, 
and  the  little  ones  are  playing  in  the  nursery." 

"Yes,  but  I  cannot  explain  this  matter  to  you 
here,"  said  Gerald,  "  it  must  be  on  the  spot, 
Do  come,  Carrie,  there's  a  jewel ;  it  is  as  warm 
as  summer,  and  the  rain  has  ceased  entirely. 
I  dare  say  we  shall  have  a  lovely  sunset,  If 
you  did  but  know  how  I  weary  of  being  in  a 
house,  after  roving  over  the  free  blue  ocean !" 
he  added,  in  a  tone  of  self-commiseration. 

"  Poor  boy  !  I  suppose  I  must  take  pity  on 
you,"  observed  Caroline,  good-naturedly,  as 
she  replaced  her  writing  implements,  and 
locked  the  desk.  "Though  as  regards  the 
ocean,  Gerald,  I  am  pretty  sure  that  if  the 
truth  were  told,  you  are  as  much  of  a  lands- 
man as  any  one  on  board ;  and  I  even  suspect 
you  are  occasionally  a  victim  to  that  very 
troublesome  complaint  called  sea-sickness,  al- 
though, of  course,  dignity  will  not  suffer  you 
to  own  it." 

Gerald  only  laughed,  and  begged  his  sister 


SAXD   DRAWINGS.  119 

•would  make  haste,  as  the  beauty  of  the  after- 
noon would  be  quite  over,  if  they  lingered. 
Caroline  did  not  precisely  see  wherein  the 
beauty  lay,  but  she  assured  her  brother  that 
she  would  not  detain  him  longer  than  she  could 
possibly  avoid,  and  so  left  the  room. 

Poor  Caroline !  it  was  a  greater  effort  for 
her  to  brave  the  mist  and  cold  than  Gerald 
could  for  an  instant  have  conceived ;  but  she 
had  long  and  earnestly  endeavored  to  accustom 
herself  to  make  sacrifices  in  a  cheerful  spirit, 
for  she  had  been  early  taught  that  a  fretful 
and  complaining  disposition  will  mar  the  lus- 
tre of  the  brightest  deeds,  while  a  sweet  and 
sunny  temper  will  enhance  the  value  of  even 
the  most  trivial  act  of  kindness.  Then,  too, 
came  the  recollection  that  her  sailor  brother 
would  but  be  a  passing  guest.  A  few  short 
weeks  would  again  find  him  tossed  upon  the 
raging  deep,  hundreds  of  miles  away  from 
home  and  kindred ;  and  how,  then,  could  she 
bear  the  thought  of  having  denied  him  any 
innocent  request  ? 

This  feeling  would,  in  itself,  have  been  suffi- 
cient to  decide  her ;  but  there  was  yet  another 
and  a  holier  consideration.  That  self-devotion, 
which  is  at  all  times  inculcated  upon  those 
who  do,  in  sincerity  and  truth,  desire  to  be 


120  SAND   DRAWINGS. 

followers  of  their  blessed  Lord,  was  upon  that 
day  more  peculiarly  enforced  by  the  precepts 
and  example  of  the  Church.  It  was  Friday, 
a  season  set  apart  for  acts  of  self-denial,  except 
when  it  falls  upon  the  high  festival  of  Christ- 
mas. 

Caroline  had  for  years  striven  to  conform  in 
this,  as  in  all  other  particulars,  to  the  teaching 
of  the  Prayer-book ;  and  the  effort,  great  at 
first,  had  by  degrees  become  comparatively 
slight,  while  the  advantage  she  derived  from 
this  observance  could  not  fail  to  be  apparent 
even  to  herself,  as  she  perceived  the  increased 
facility  with  which  she  was  enabled  to  give  up 
her  own  ease  and  pleasure  for  the  good  of 
others.  A  system  of  this  nature,  long  and 
resolutely  persevered  in,  from  no  other  motive 
than  that  of  cultivating  a  principle  of  obe- 
dience, and  as  a  means  of  strengthening  the 
character,  must  of  necessity  render  all  personal 
sacrifices  easy,  when  they  are  undertaken  for  a 
special  object. 

"  And  now  which  way  shall  we  walk  ?"  in- 
quired Caroline,  as  they  left  the  house.  "  To 
Mottistone  Moor,  and  the  old  Druid  monu- 
ment ?" 

"No;  to  the  Pearl  and  Kainbow  Cliffs," 
said  Gerald. 


SAND   DRAWINGS.  121 

"  Less  poetically  known  as  Alum  Bay,"  re- 
sponded Caroline,  as  she  smiled  at  her  young 
poet  brother's  rather  fanciful  designation  of  a 
locality  which  well  merited  even  his  enthusi- 
astic praise.  "  Come,  let  me  hear  your  secret, 
Gerald,"  she  proceeded,  after  they  had  con- 
tinued for  some  time  on  their  way,  without  any 
mention  being  made  of  the  desired  topic. 

But  Gerald  was  not  disposed  to  be  commu- 
nicative ;  at  least  on  that  subject,  for  upon  all 
others  he  conversed  so  pleasantly,  that  Caro- 
line was  surprised  to  find  she  had  actually  en- 
joyed her  walk.  The  afternoon  had  become 
singularly  lovely ;  rather  cold,  it  is  true,  but 
pure  and  bracing,  with  a  fresh  wind  sweeping 
across  the  hills,  and  wild  stormy  lights,  bright- 
ening the  surface  of  the  ocean.  It  was  a 
pleasure  to  ramble  over  the  bleak,  lonely 
downs ;  and  when  at  length  they  paused  upon 
the  summit  of  a  lofty  chalk  cliff,  and  stood 
gazing  down  a  sheer  precipice  of  some  eighty 
feet  upon  the  glorious  ocean,  just  then  so 
darkly  and  intensely  blue,  Caroline  owned 
candidly  that  she  was  well  repaid  for  the  exer- 
tion of  leaving  home.  After  lingering  a  while 
to  watch  the  myriads  of  sea-birds,  as  with 
shrill  screams  they  darted  from  their  caverned 
homes,  deep  in  the  recesses  of  the  glittering 
11 


122  SAND   DRAWINGS. 

peaks,  to  skim  over  the  crested  waves,  white 
as  the  silvery  foam,  amid  which  they  were 
soon  lost  to  sight,  the 'brother  and  sister  crossed 
a  narrow  neck  of  land,  and  then  descending  by 
a  circuitous  footpath  to  the  shore,  soon  found 
themselves  within  the  enchanted  realm  of 
Alum  Bay. 

The  scenery  of  this  locality  is  among  the 
most  peculiar  in  the  Isle  of  "Wight.  Caroline 
and  Gerald  were  seated  in  a  sandy  cove, 
bounded  by  a  semicircular  range  of  cliffs  of 
every  imaginable  hue :  deep  crimson  and  pale 
rosy-pink ;  blue,  brown,  and  gray ;  orange  and 
purple ;  green,  white,  and  gold ;  the  whole 
blazing  beneath  the  burning  glow  of  an  au- 
tumnal sunset,  — such  was  the  foreground  of  the 
picture ;  while  in  the  distance  rose  the  misty 
forms  of  a  still  more  magnificent  and  extended 
range,  which,  partially  illumined  by  the  re- 
flected glory  of  the  "  Rainbow"  chain,  gleamed 
with  a  soft  pearly  lustre  as  peculiar  as  it  was 
exquisite. 

"  They  would  make  some  use  of  these  things 
in  America,  Carrie,"  observed  Gerald,  as  he 
diligently  employed  himself  in  collecting  a 
handful  of  small,  detached  lumps  of  sand ;  and 
then  slowly  crumbling  them  one  by  one,  suf- 
fered the  brilliant  particles  to  fall  in  gay  con- 


SAND   DRAWINGS.  123 

fusion  upon  the  surface  of  a  pocket-handker- 
chief, which  he  had  spread  upon  his  knees  in 
readiness  to  receive  them. 

"  And  so  do  we  make  use  of  them  in  Eng- 
land," rejoined  Caroline;  "for  these,  in  com- 
mon with  the  other  wondrous  works  of  God, 
serve  both  to  gladden  our  eyes  and  to  rejoice 
our  hearts :  then  who  shall  venture  to  affirm 
that  they  exist  in  vain  ?" 

"  This  brown  would  do  nicely  for  the  shading 
of  a  house ;  and  with  that  green,  one  might 
easily  imitate  the  foliage  of  trees ;  and  this  soft 
gray — yes,  that  shall  be  for  the  walls  of  some 
old  ruined  castle,"  proceeded  Gerald  in  a  mus- 
ing tone,  as  without  paying  attention  to  his 
sister's  words,  he  tranquilly  pursued  his  occu- 
pation. 

"  My  dear  sailor,  have  you  taken  leave  of 
your  senses  ?"  demanded  Caroline,  in  an  accent 
of  amusement. 

"  Have  I  not  often  heard  you  say  that  you 
would  like  to  devise  some  pleasant  and  profit- 
able occupation  for  the  children  ?"  inquired 
Gerald,  without  condescending  to  reply. 

"  For  Edward  and  Ida,  do  you  mean  ?" 
asked  Caroline.  "I  think  while  they  are  still 
so  young,  mamma  would  prefer  not  to  increase 
their  tasks ;  and  as  regards  their  recreations,  I 


124:  SAND   DRAWINGS. 

have  never  seen  either  of  them  at  a  loss  for 
amusement  during  playtime." 

"]STo,  not  for  Ida  and  Edward,  you  may  be 
sure,"  said  Gerald  ;  "  four  hours  of  study  every 
day  are  quite  enough  for  them  at  present,  to 
say  nothing  of  poor  Ida's  needlework.  l^o, 
no,  I  was  speaking  of  the  VILLAGE  children ; 
they  have  leisure  sufficient  and  to  spare." 

"  Oh !  that  has  long  been  one  of  my  chief 
difficulties,"  exclaimed  Caroline,  in  a  manner 
from  which  all  trace  of  lightness  had  com- 
pletely vanished.  "  I  know  it  must  be  bad  for 
them  to  be  so  constantly  idle  out  of  school- 
hours,  when  they  might  be  earning  something 
for  their  parents,  many  of  whom  are  so  very 
poor  that  even  the  smallest  increase  of  their 
means  would  be  a  great  assistance ;  but  it 
seems  impossible  to  contrive  any  employment 
that  will  exactly  suit.  If  you  can  advise  or 
help  me  in  this  matter,  Gerald,  it  will  be  a 
greater  satisfaction  than  I  can  at  all  express." 

"Set  them  to  work  at  making  sand  draw- 
ings," replied  Gerald,  with  composure. 

"  I  suppose  I  must  not  laugh,"  said  Caroline, 
"  since  most  of  your  schemes  prove  to  be  good 
for  something  in  the  end ;  but  I  wish  you 
would  explain  yourself  more  clearly." 

"  "Why  you  see,  Carrie,"  began  Gerald  more 


SAXD    DHA WINGS.  125 

seriously,  "  it  will  be  an  affair  of  time,  and 
you  must  prepare  your  mind  for  a  certain 
amount  of  failure  and  disappointment  at  the 
outset." 

"Yes,  that  of  course,"  replied  Caroline, 
bending  forward  eagerly;  "but  pray  go  on, 
for  I  am  all  impatience." 

"You  are  a  good  artist,  Came,"  he  con- 
tinued ;  "  and  I  have  often  heard  mother  say, 
that  you  excel  in  fancy-work  of  every  sort ;  I 
know  you  have  a  large,  well-filled  portfolio  at 
home ;  give  me  one  of  the  sketches  about 
which  you  do  not  care,  and  I  will  try  to  color 
it  in  sand." 

"  But  how  do  you  expect  to  make  the  sand 
adhere?"  inquired  Caroline,  whose  curiosity 
and  interest  were  effectually  aroused. 

"  By  means  of  a  very  thin  solution  of  gum- 
arabic  ;  but,  of  course,  this  is  to  be  only  a 
rough  experiment.  The  drawings  will  require 
to  be  specially  made  in  reference  to  this  pur- 
pose ;  and  you  will  need  long  and  patient 
practice  to  attain  any  thing  approaching  to 
perfection." 

"  Supposing  we  were  to  begin  with  Steephill 
Castle,"  suggested  Caroline ;  "  that,  I  imagine, 
we  shall  not  find  very  difficult." 

"Steephill  Castle  let  it  be,"  said  Gerald; 


126  SAND   DKAAVINGS. 

"and  here  are  abundant  materials  for  this 
evening's  work.  But  come,  sister,  let  us  walk 
towards  home,  fox  it  is  growing  late,  and  I  do 
not  wish  mother  to  say  that  I  have  made  you 
ill." 

"  You  have  not  yet  told  me  how  this  grand 
project  is  to  benefit  the  children,"  remarked 
Caroline,  as  she  rose  and  suffered  her  young 
brother  to  draw  her  arm  within  his  own. 

"  Why  you  may  employ  them  for  a  while  in 
the  collection  of  your  materials ;  and  that  will 
be  no  light  business,  I  assure  you,  for  you 
should  only  use  the  cleanest  and  smoothest 
specimens,  very  unlike  these  pieces  which  I 
have  just  picked  up  at  random ;  and  you  will 
need  every  possible  variety  of  the  softer  tints 
as  well.  I  should  not  wonder  if  there  were  as 
many  as  twenty  different  shades  among  these 
cliffs,  and,  for  aught  I  can  tell,  a  hundred 
more.  It  will  be  a  nice  amusement  for  the 
children  to  search  for  them  among  the  rocks 
and  on  the  beach;  they  will  make  up  little 
parties,  and  enjoy  it  above  all  things — pro- 
vided only  that  they  have  some  definite  aim 
in  view.  You  might  afterwards  keep  them 
busy  in  cleansing  and  preparing  the  sand,  and 
in  arranging  every  distinct  color  separately  in 
little  boxes ;  I  will  engage  to  make  you  fifty 


SAND   DRAWINGS.  127 

out  of  pasteboard,  before  I  am  obliged  to  go 
away  from  home." 

"  But  winter  is  coming  on,"  objected  Caro- 
line ;  "  the  days  are  so  short  and  cold  already 
that  one  has  little  inclination  to  venture  out." 

"  That  is  an  obstacle,  I  admit,"  said  Gerald 
thoughtfully.  "  Still  there  are  frequently  mild 
terms  even  in  mid-winter,"  he  added,  in  a 
brighter  tone ;  "  only  do  not  be  discouraged, 
and  all  will  come  right  in  the  end.  There  is 
one  way  besides  in  which  it  will  do  immediate 
good :  you  can  "reward  the  children  for  their 
labor ;  that,  you  perceive,  is  only  just  and 
right,  for  they  will  have  earned  it  honestly." 

"  Yes,  they  will  be  fairly  entitled  to  a  recom- 
pense," observed  Caroline ;  "  and  under  these 
circumstances  there  will  be  no  fear  of  taking 
from  their  self-respect — a  point  about  which  I 
try  always  to  be  most  particular." 

"  Well,  then,"  continued  Gerald,  "  if  you 
can  advance  ten  shillings,  I  will  do  the  same ; 
and  that  will  make  five  dollars,  or  a  pound,  as 
one  should  say  in  England,"  he  added,  laugh- 
.ing  at  his  own  forgetfuliiess. 

"No,  indeed,  dear  Gerald!  I  cannot  take 
your  money,"  exclaimed  Caroline,  warmly ; 
"  you  can  have  very  little  now,  for  I  fear  that 
you  have  expended  nearly  the  whole  of  your 


128  SAND   DRAWINGS. 

allowance  upon  those  beautiful  presents  which 
you  brought  us  on  your  last  voyage." 

"  But  this  is  my  own  private  scheme — a  pet 
project  over  which  I  have  been  dreaming  so 
long.  I  shall  consider  it  unkind  if  you  do  not 
let  me  bear  my  share  of  the  expenses,  more 
especially  since  I  can  do  little  in  the  way  of 
work ;  besides,  what  is  the  use  of  having 
money  unless  it  enables  one  to  give  pleasure  ? 
In  this  case  it  will,  undoubtedly ;  for  you 
know,  Carrie,  that  even  a  single  pound  divided 
among  so  many,  will  go  far  towards  providing 
trifling  comforts  that  will  be  most  acceptable 
at  Christmas-time." 

"Mamma  always  supplies  the  Christmas 
dinner,"  observed  Caroline ;  "  but,  as  I  said 
before,  the  poverty  of  the  cottagers  about  here 
is  so  great,  that  they  would  hail  with  gratitude 
the  smallest  addition  to  their  scanty  income. 
I  am  sure,  too,  the  children  will  be  glad  to  feel 
that  they  are  able  to  assist  their  parents ;  but 
they  cannot  be  always  busied  in  collecting 
sand,  so  what  do  you  intend  shall  be  the  next 
step  ?" 

"Let  them  learn  to  color  your  sketches," 
replied  Gerald ;  "  it  is  a  mere  mechanical 
operation,"  he  continued,  in  answer  to  his  sis- 
ter's look  of  consternation,  "  You  will  need 


SAND   DRAWINGS.  129 

only  practice  to  become  quite  an  adept  iii  the 
art ;  and  I  should  advise  you,  as  soon  as  may 
be,  to  prepare  some  drawings  in  a  much  neater 
form — on  tinted  card-board,  for  example  :  se- 
lect any  one  object,  such  as  a  church,  or  castle, 
or  a  pretty  cottage,  and  imitate  the  natural 
coloring  with  as  great  a  degree  of  accuracy  as 
possible;  but  do  not  attempt  landscapes  yet 
a  while,  for  they  are  far  more  complicated,  and 
it  will  be  better  to  go  on  step  by  step,  as  in 
that  way  one  is  much  more  likely  to  im- 
prove." 

"And  the  children  had  best  commence  by 
copying  my  rough  sketches,  I  suppose,"  said 
Caroline. 

"  Precisely  so,"  rejoined  her  brother  ;  "  and 
you  might  arrange  to  meet  them  in  the  school- 
house  on  any  days  that  you  judge  most  conve- 
nient. You  should  lay  the  materials  before 
them ;  explain  the  process  in  its  minutest  de- 
tails, and,  at  first,  provide  them  with  sand 
drawings  of  your  own,  which  they  shall  be  re- 
quired to  imitate  exactly.  Some  of  the  pupils 
will  master  the  difficulty  soon  enough,  while 
others  will  demand  time  and  patience :  but  it 
seems  odd  for  me  to  be  preaching  that  virtue 
to  you,"  he  added,  with  a  smile. 

"  And,"  inquired  Caroline,  "  what  use  do 


130  SAND    DRAWINGS. 

you  intend  to  make  of  these  productions  after 
they  shall  be  completed  ?" 

"  Your  chief  embarrassment  will  be  in  fur- 
nishing a  sufficient  number,"  returned  Gerald. 
"  We  must  both  work  very  hard  this  month, 
so  as  to  finish  a  few  specimens  ;  although  they 
will,  of  course,  be  far  inferior  to  your  future 
efforts  :  still,  the  novelty  will  be  sure  to  please, 
and  I  know  that  Mr.  Green,  the  bookseller, 
will  readily  engage  to  take  them  off  your  hands 
upon  condition  of  receiving  half  the  profits." 

"  The  subjects  of  the  pictures  should  all  be 
connected  with  the  Isle  of  Wight  ?"  said  Caro- 
line, in  an  inquiring  tone. 

"  Yes  ;  that  will  be  the  wisest  plan  decided- 
ly ;  it  will  be  certain  to  attract  many  tourists, 
who  will  like  to  procure  them  as  a  souvenir  of 
their  travels.  Perhaps,  too,  it  may  be  as  well 
to  indicate  the  precise  locality  ;  and  Alum  Bay 
Sands  might  be  inserted  in  a  pretty  scroll,  or 
any  other  fanciful  design,  for  I  would  have  you, 
by  and  by,  take  great  pains  to  embellish  your 
productions.  An  illuminated  border,  for  in- 
stance, would  set  off  the  more  sombre  hues  of 
the  drawing  to  great  advantage." 

"  Pray,  how  shall  I  find  time  for  that  ?"  de- 
manded Caroline.  "  My  dear  Gerald,  this  is 
an  extremely  visionary  scheme.  Why,  it  would 


SAND   DRAWINGS.  131 

absorb  all  the  leisure  I  can  command  in  a  whole 
fortnight  to  execute  one  such  border  as  you 
propose." 

"  I  do  not  mean  that  all  the  burden  of  this 
undertaking  shall  fall  upon  your  shoulders, 
Carrie.  Many  of  your  young  lady  friends 
will  be  delighted  to  assist  you.  There  are  Julia 
Ashurst,  and  Clara  Percival,  and  Miss  Morel ; 
it  will  be  a  nice  occupation  for  their  winter 
evenings,  as  they  all  paint  beautifully,  and  it 
might  lead  them  by  degrees  to  take  a  greater 
interest  in  the  children.  We  will  go  to  Lau- 
relton  to-morrow,  should  nothing  happen  to 
prevent,  and  have  a  talk  with  Julia  Ashurst." 

"  Here  we  are,  at  home!"  exclaimed  Caroline, 
in  an  accent  of  vexation,  "  and  there  are  still 
so  many  questions  that  I  long  to  ask  you." 

"  So  you  are  sorry  to  return  to  the  warm 
fireside  ?"  rejoined  her  brother,  with  a  smile ; 
"but  never  mind,  Carrie,  for  I  dare  say  we 
shall  have  a  fine  chance  of  building  our  cas- 
tles between  this  and  bedtime." 

Seldom  was  there  seen  a  more  cheerful  group 
than  that  assembled  around  the  social  board  at 
Whitethorn  Lodge.  Gerald,  invariably  the  life 
of  the  party,  was  this  evening  more  than  usu- 
ally gay  and  full  of  spirits.  A  succession  of 
merry  games  occupied  the  two  succeeding 


132  SAND    DKAWINGS. 

hours,  and  when  the  children  were  dismissed 
at  eight  o'clock,  Caroline  and  her  brother  drew 
the  small,  round  table,  with  its  softly  shaded 
lamp,  close  to  the  sofa  upon  which  Mrs.  Her- 
bert was  reclining,  and  while  employed  in 
overlooking  the  contents  of  a  huge  portfolio, 
unfolded  their  new  project  to  their  mother's 
sympathizing  ear. 

Mrs.  Herbert  entered  with  the  warmest  in- 
terest into  all  their  plans.  There  were  many 
impediments  in  the  way  she  said,  but  she  had 
no  doubt,  that  by  dint  of  perseverance,  they 
might  be  fairly  overcome  ;  it  would  be  a  great 
resource  also  to  Ida,  who  would,  probably,  ere 
long  be  able  to  take  an  active  part  in  the  pro- 
ceedings, as  she  had  already  evinced  a  wonder- 
ful facility  for  drawing.  It  would  be  an  ad- 
mirable thing,  too,  to  have  the  village  children 
brought  more  immediately  under  Caroline's 
own  eye  ;  for  Mrs.  Goodwin,  the  teacher,  had 
remarked,  only  the  last  time  she  called,  that 
there  was  no  one  in  the  parish  who  had  the 
same  influence  over  her  pupils  as  Miss  Herbert. 

"  Because  I  love  them  all  so  very  dearly ; 
that  is  the  only  reason  I  know  of,"  answered 
Caroline.  "  But  come,  Gerald,  I  am  curious 
to  witness  the  success  of  your  mysterious  ope- 
rations." 


SAND   DRAWINGS.  133 

"You  can  hardly  judge  as  yet,"  observed 
Gerald,  as  he  removed  the  screen  which  had 
concealed  his  work,  and  displayed  to  view  a 
small  but  beautifully  colored  portion  of  a  turret. 

"  How  admirably  well  done !"  cried  Caro- 
line, as  she  seized  a  paint-brush  and  a  second 
drawing.  "What  can  be  wrong  with  this 
paper  ?"  she  exclaimed  a  moment  afterwards  ; 
"  the  particles  of  sand  will  not  adhere." 

"  Try  the  effect  of  a  drop  or  two  of  gum- 
arabic,**  said  Gerald,  as  he  pointed  to  the  vial 
which  his  sister  had  in  her  hurry  overlooked. 

"  Oh !  to  be  sure,  I  entirely  forgot,"  said 
Caroline,  laughing  ;  "  see,"  she  continued,  "  it 
does  nicely  now,  although  my  tree  is  not  to  be 
compared  with  your  tower,  Gerald." 

"  Yes  indeed,  it  is  far  better  done,"  replied 
Gerald  in  a  decided  tone  ;  "  and  yet  that  green 
sand  is  so  coarse  as  to  be  almost  worthless, 
while  your  paper  also  is  quite  inferior  to  mine. 
But  you  really  must  buy  some  card-board  im 
mediately,  Carrie,  and  then,  whenever  you  can 
find  leisure,  reduce  a  number  of  these  sketches 
to  a  smaller  size." 

"  But,   my   dear   children,"  observed   Mrs. 

Herbert,  "  there  is  one  point  which  you  have 

not  considered :  what  use  can  be  made  of  those 

bright  red  and  yellow  tints,  which  are,  in  my 

12 


134:  SAND   DRAWINGS. 

opinion,  the  most  beautiful  of  all  ?  You  can 
only  introduce  the  more  sombre  hues,  such  as 
green,  and  brown,  and  pale  blue,  and  gray,  in- 
to the  style  of  work  that  you  contemplate." 

"  I  had  not  forgotten  that,  mamma,"  said  Ger- 
ald ;  "  of  course  we  cannot  paint  our  castles  crim- 
son, nor  these  English  forests  of  a  glowing  pur- 
ple ;  though  you  would  not  think  the  latter  no- 
tion extravagant,  could  you  but  wander  through 
the  American  autumnal  woods  :  still,  I  have  a 
plan  for  those  as  well ;  only,  as  it  is  not  yet 
matured  in  my  own  mind,  I  had  not  intended 
naming  it  just  now  to  you  and  Caroline.  My 
idea  was,  simply  to  arrange  the  various  speci- 
mens of  sand  in  glass  bottles  of  an  ornamental 
kind  ;  but  Jioio,  I  cannot  yet  exactly  tell.  I  will 
think  the  matter  over,  and  try  experiments 
upon  the  voyage,  and  in  the  mean  while,  Carrie 
and  the  children  are  abundantly  supplied  with 
occupation." 

"  Yes,  that  is  very  certain,"  answered  Caro- 
line, "  and  I  hope  to  prove  to  you,  at  your  next 
home-coming,  that  we  have  all  been  wonder- 
fully diligent." 

"  I  give  you  fair  warning  that  I  shall  expect 
a  dozen  pictures,  exquisitely  colored  and  en- 
riched with  splendid  illuminations,  to  present 
to  Mrs.  Mortimer,  in  return  for  her  beautiful 


SAND    DRAWINGS.  135 

mosses,"  replied  Gerald,  mischievously,  as  hav- 
ing, with  commendable  neatness,  restored  all 
the  articles  they  had  been  using  to  their  proper 
places,  he  lighted  a  candle  and  bade  his  mother 
and  sister  good-night,  declaring  that  the  high 
wind  on  the  cliffs  had  made  him  sleepy.  Mrs. 
Herbert  followed  directly  afterwards  ;  and  Car- 
oline only  waited  to  read  a  chapter  from  the 
New  Testament,  in  order  to  banish,  if  possible, 
all  thoughts  of  earth  before  she  also  retired  to 
her  peaceful  slumbers. 

It  was  a  hard  trial  to  this  united  family, 
when  the  beloved  eldest  son  and  brother  was 
again  called  upon  to  leave  them.  This  time 
it  was  hoped  the  separation  would  not  much 
exceed  a  year,  and  Gerald  had  the  satisfaction, 
before  he  said  farewell  to  England,  of  feeling 
that  his  efforts  had  already  been  crowned  with 
a  more  abundant  success  than  he  had  ventured, 
in  his  most  sanguine  moments,  to  anticipate. 

The  children  had  entered  with  delight  into 
his  scheme,  and  were  quite  proud  at  the  thought 
of  being  one  day  able  to  present  their  parents 
with  a  little  sum  of  their  own  earning.  The 
young  ladies,  upon  whose  skill  he  so  largely 
counted,  had  cordially  responded  to  his  call, 
and  also  expressed  their  willingness  to  for- 
ward any  plan  which  their  friends  at  White- 


136  SAND   DRAWINGS. 

thorn  might  approve ;  while  the  labors  of  his 
darling  sister  had  so  wonderfully  prospered, 
that  she  contemplated  forming  her  class  with- 
out delay,  and  there  really  seemed  every  prob- 
ability that  the  occupation  would,  in  due  course 
of  time,  become  as  lucrative  as  it  had  already 
proved  agreeable.  Mr.  Green  had  succeeded  in 
disposing  of  six  very  small  unornamented  draw- 
ings, at  the  price  of  two  shillings  each.  The 
children  might  reasonably  be  expected  soon  to 
do  as  well,  and  Gerald  felt  convinced  that  his 
sister's  more  ambitious  attempts  would  meet 
with  a  proportionate  reward. 

It  was  on  the  morning  of  a  spring-like  day 
in  February  that  Caroline  Herbert  entered  the 
sunny  school-room,  where  she  had  engaged  to 
meet  her  drawing-class,  for  the  first  time. 
Twenty  little  boys  and  girls  were  assembled 
there  in  anxious  expectation  of  her  arrival, 
and  as  the  exact  method  had  been  previously 
explained  to  them,  no  further  instruction  wras 
at  that  moment  requisite.  Caroline,  having 
seen  each  child  comfortably  established  at  a 
separate  desk  and  provided  with  an  easy  copy, 
seated  herself  upon  a  high-backed  chair,  which 
occupied  a  raised  platform  in  the  centre  of  the 
room,  and  prepared  to  read  aloud  an  enter- 
taining story — having  first  pleasantly  informed 


SAND   DRAWINGS.  137 

the  children  that  she  should  be  quite  ready  to 
attend  to  any  of  them  whenever  they  required 
her  assistance. 

The  result  of  their  hour's  industry  was  satis- 
factory, upon  the  whole.  Several  of  the  pu- 
pils, it  was  evident,  were  by  nature  gifted  with 
a  correct  eye,  and  a  taste  which  only  stood  in 
need  of  cultivation.  Others  had  displayed  less 
facility  in  acquiring  the  art,  but  it  was  hoped 
that  they  would,  by  the  aid  of  perseverance, 
become  equally  skilful  in  the  end.  One  or 
two  again  had  failed  completely,  but  Caroline 
would  not  suffer  even  them  to  be  discouraged. 
They  had  all  been  diligent,  and  done  their 
best,  she  said ;  in  the  course  of  a  few  weeks, 
they  would,  she  had  no  doubt,  be  quite  sur- 
prised to  note  the  progress  they  had  made  ; 
and  although  some  among  them  might  sur- 
pass the  rest,  she  sincerely  trusted  that  this 
would  cause  no  feeling  of  unkindness  to  exist 
on  either  side.  All  would  be  surely  able  to  ac- 
complish something  ;  and  where  persons  were 
working  with  one  common  object — namely, 
from  a  desire  to  improve  the  talents  commit- 
ted to  their  charge,  and  to  promote  the  happi 
ness  and  prosperity  of  those  who  were  endeared 
to  them  by  the  ties  of  blood  and  kindred — there 
should  be  unity  of  action,  combined  with  that 


138  SAND   DRAWINGS. 

tender  and  loving  sympathy  which  so  effectu- 
ally serves  to  cheer  and  lighten  the  hardest 
toils  of  life. 

The  children  listened  with  attention  and  re- 
spect to  the  precepts  of  their  beloved  yonng 
teacher,  and  certain  it  is,  that  Caroline  never 
had  the  least  occasion  to  complain  of  dissen- 
sions or  jealousies  in  the  little  circle  over  which 
she  presided. 

Time  rolled  away.  It  was  already  eighteen 
months  since  the  commencement  of  the  under- 
taking, and  now  the  demand  for  sand  drawings 
was  so  great,  that  the  combined  exertions  of 
Caroline  Herbert  and  several  other  ladies — to- 
gether with  the  band  of  children,  whose  num- 
ber had  increased  to  thirty — were  found  quite 
inadequate  to  meet  it.  Nearly  all  the  book- 
sellers throughout  the  island  were  provided 
with  specimens  of  the  ingenious  art,,  and  the 
remuneration  was  so  ample  that  the  villagers 
of  Whitethorn  were  enabled  to  surround  them- 
selves with  many  household  comforts,  to  which 
they  had  before  been  strangers.  Caroline  la- 
bored unremittingly,  and  she  was  warmly 
seconded  by  Ida,  who,  notwithstanding  her 
extreme  youth,  had  proved  an  invaluable  as- 
sistant. The  twelve  views,  which  Gerald  had 
playfully  demanded,  were  all  complete,  and 


SAND   DRAWINGS.  139 

carefully  packed  in  a  small  box,  composed  of 
the  celebrated  Mosaic  ware  from  Tunbridge 
"Wells — every  thing  was  in  a  due  state  of  prep- 
aration for  the  return  of  the  yonng  sailor,  who 
was  now  almost  hourly  expected. 

He  came  in  the  warm,  bright  days  of  early 
June.  Joy  once  more  reigned  supreme  in  the 
sweet  home  of  Whitethorn  Lodge,  and  heart- 
felt were  the  greetings  which  the  wanderer  re- 
ceived from  each  one  of  the  inhabitants  of  his 
native  village.  Directly  after  breakfast,  on 
the  morning  that  succeeded  his  arrival,  Caro- 
line related  to  her  brother  all  those  minute 
details  connected  with  his  favorite  scheme, 
which  it  had  not  been  possible  to  communi- 
cate by  letter,  and  at  the  same  time  pre- 
sented him  with  the  choice  collection  intended 
for  her  American  friend,  every  picture  of 
which  surpassed — in  truth  of  coloring  and 
delicacy  of  execution — any  thing  she  had  be- 
fore achieved. 

Gerald  was  equally  astonished  and  delighted, 
but  he  would  not  for  an  instant  take  the  slight- 
est credit  to  himself.  It  was  no  hard  matter 
to  form  plans,  he  said ;  the  real  difficulty  was 
to  meet  with  persons  who  were  endowed  with 
sufficient  energy  and  resolution  to  carry  them 
into  effect.  Caroline's  success  was  almost 


140  SAND   DRAWINGS. 

unexampled,  but  he  also  had  endeavored  not 
to  be  quite  idle ;  and  so  saying,  Gerald  un- 
rolled a  parcel  that  he  had  been  holding  in 
his  hand,  and  held  up  a  pair  of  tiny  bottles  of 
cut  glass,  filled  with  a  variety  of  the  most  bril- 
liant sands,  arranged  in  fanciful  and  graceful 
arabesques. 

"  The  result  of  some  hard  work,  Carrie,"  he 
observed,  in  reply  to  his  sister's  exclamation  of 
pleasure  and  surprise.  "  They  are  the  most 
troublesome  affairs  imaginable,  and  at  one 
time  I  was  vastly  inclined  to  give  the  matter 
up  ;  however  I  thought  better  of  it,  as  you 
perceive.  These  vases  are  designed  for  little 
Ida ;  .will  you  place  them,  for  me,  on  her  dress- 
ing-table?" 

"  Yes ;  that  I  will,"  said  Caroline  as  she 
lifted  the  pretty  ornaments  from  the  mantel- 
piece, and  prepared  to  leave  the  room. 

"  Stay  ;  here  is  a  present  for  you,  Carrie 
dear,"  continued  Gerald,  as  he  pointed  to  a 
larger  package  that  had  lain  unnoticed  on 
the  sofa. 

Caroline  eagerly  removed  the  folds  of  silver 
paper  in  which  it  was  enveloped,  and  the  sight 
which  then  met  her  eyes  rendered  her,  for  sev- 
eral seconds,  speechless  with  admiration  and 
delight. 


SAND   DRAWINGS.  141 

Within  a  framework  of  the  more  gorgeous 
coloring,  such  as  had  been  contained  in  Ida's 
vases,  were  set  two  small  and  exquisitely  fin- 
ished pictures :  the  one  representing  the  old 
gray  parish  church ;  the  other,  that  beloved 
home  to  which  the  heart  of  the  young  exile 
had  so  often  and  so  fondly  turned,  in  distant 
lands. 

"  O  Gerald !"  exclaimed  Caroline,  as  soon 
as  her  excitement  could  find  vent  in  words, 
"  I  no  longer  marvel  that  you  were  willing  to 
allow  us  all  the  credit  of  the  sand  drawings, 
since  your  own  performances  have  so  effectu- 
ally eclipsed  their  merit ;  but  pray  explain  to 
me  the  means  by  which  you  have  done  such 
wonders." 

"  That  is  a  profound  secret  for  the  present," 
replied  Gerald,  with  an  air  of  mystery.  "  You 
have  all  as  much  upon  your  hands  as  you  can 
well  accomplish,  without  attempting  any  thing 
beyond;  for  I  cannot  tell  you,  Carrie,  how 
much  I  admire  your  branch  of  industry,  which 
is  far  better  suited  to  a  lady's  hand  than  mine ; 
but  now  do  you  and  Ida  come  with  me  to  the 
study,  for  there  is  something  there  that  I  should 
like  to  show  you." 

Both  children  were  summoned  from  the 
nursery,  and  Mrs.  Herbert  entering  at  that 


142  SAND   DRAWINGS. 

moment,  they  all  proceeded  together  to  the 
library,  where  upon  the  table  were  ranged 
two  dozen  volumes,  nicely  bound ;  they  were 
all  numbered,  and  upon  the  back  of  each 
was  inscribed,  in  small  gilt  letters — "  Na- 
tional School  Library :  Whitethorn,  Isle  of 
Wight." 

"  Dear  Gerald  !"  began  Caroline,  "  how 
kind  you  are  ;  nothing  that  you  could  possibly 
have  brought  would  have  afforded  me  the 
same  amount  of  pleasure." 

"  I  felt  certain  of  it,  dearest  sister ;  I  had  so 
often  heard  you  sigh  for  a  juvenile  library, 
belonging  to  the  parish,  that  I  at  once  resolved 
upon  applying  the  proceeds  derived  from  the 
sale  of  a  number  of  my  sand  bottles  to  this 
purpose,  instead  of  purchasing  for  you  a  set 
of  splendid  engravings,  for  which  I  had  a 
special  fancy.  These  are  yours  and  Ida's,"  he 
continued,  looking  with  affection  on  the  sweet 
countenance  of  his  youngest  sister,  which  was 
at  that  moment  flushed  and  sparkling  with 
animated  interest,  as  she  bent  over  a  page,  so 
much  absorbed  as  to  be  almost  unconscious  of 
what  was  taking  place  around  her. 

"  And  mine  too,  Gerald,"  expostulated  Mas- 
ter Edward,  in  an  injured  tone,  as  he  threw 
aside  a  volume,  with  an  air  of  disapprobation, 


SAND   DRAWINGS.  143 

upon  discovering  that  it  contained  no  other 
picture  than  a  frontispiece. 

"  Yes,  yours  too,  Eddie,  by  all  means,"  re- 
turned Gerald,  stooping  to  caress  the  child; 
"  but  you  shall  come  with  me  to  my  own  room 
presently,  and  we  shall  see  if  there  is  not  some- 
thing prettier  in  the  trunk." 

"  "Well,  then,  I  will  wait  up-stairs  till  you  are 
ready,  only  please  make  haste,"  cried  Edward, 
as  he  darted  joyfully  from  the  room. 

"  What  an  admirable  collection !"  observed 
Mrs.  Herbert ;  "  my  dear  boy,  how  can  you 
have  contrived  to  choose  so  well  ?" 

"  These  are  the  very  works  that  of  all  others 
I  should  have  selected,"  continued  Caroline, 
who  had  been  attentively  examining  the  titles. 

Gerald  smiled.  "  You  think  that  a  singular 
coincidence,  no  doubt,  and  are  a  little  disposed 
to  regard  me  as  a  magician,  Carrie ;  so,  for  the 
sake  of  my  reputation,  I  must  let  you  into  the 
secret.  Upon  the  very  day  before  leaving 
home,  as  I  was  searching  in  a  closet,  where  I 
had  stowed  away  some  lumps  of  sand,  I 
chanced  to  remark  a  slip  of  paper  in  your 
handwriting,  which  contained  a  list  of  chil- 
dren's books  that  you  were  anxious  to  procure, 
and  so  I  just  took  the  liberty  of  copying  it 
out." 


144  SAND   DRAWINGS. 

"I  recollect  that  catalogue  distinctly,"  re- 
joined Caroline,  "for  I  had  dropped  it  in  that 
cupboard  by  mistake,  and  had  afterwards  no 
small  trouble  in  discovering  its  whereabouts. 
It  still  lies  in  my  writing-desk,  but  I  have 
scarcely  had  time  even  to  think  of  it  since 
then." 

"  I  took  care  to  ascertain  by  letter  that  you 
had  not  procured  the  volumes,"  replied  Gerald ; 
"  and  just  before  we  sailed  for  home,  I  wrote 
to  Mrs.  Clarke,  at  London,  inclosing  the  list, 
and  requesting  that  she  would  have  the  par- 
cel ready  upon  my  arrival,  so  that  I  might 
call  for  it  at  her  house  as  I  passed  through 
town." 

"  I  must  say  she  has  executed  your  commis- 
sion faithfully,"  remarked  Mrs.  Herbert. 

"Yes,  she  has  been  most  kind,"  said  Ger- 
ald ;  "  but  now  I  must  run  away,  for  it  will 
not  do  to  tax  poor  little  Eddie's  patience  any 
longer." 

The  calm  sunset  glory  of  that  evening  found 
Caroline  and  Gerald  once  more  amid  the  gor- 
geous scenery  of  the  "  Rainbow  Cliffs."  They 
were  both  very  silent  and  disposed  to  medita- 
tion, for  their  hearts  were  overflowing  with 
gratitude  and  joy  as  they  recalled  their  former 
conversation  on  this  spot,  and  the  unlocked- 


SAND   DRAWINGS.  145 

for  triumpli  with  which  God  had  blessed  their 
simple  but  most  earnest-minded  endeavors  to 
do  good.  They  stood  alone  upon  the  margin 
of  the  slumbering  sea,  which  lay  in  glassy 
stillness,  reflecting  the  gold  and  purple  clouds 
in  its  mysterious  depths. 

"  Something  has  been  accomplished  since  we 
were  here  last,  Carrie,"  observed  Gerald,  his 
voice  breaking  in  after  a  long  pause  upon  the 
profound  hush  of  nature ;  "  but,  alas !  how  very 
much  remains  yet  to  be  done." 

"  Then  let  that  thought  stimulate  us  to 
renewed  exertion,  dearest  brother,"  rejoined 
Caroline,  "for  soon  approach  the  shadows  of 
that  night  wherein  none  may  labor  more." 

Gerald  did  not  answer,  and  the  youthful 
pair  stood  gazing  forth  with  awe  upon  the 
glorious  scene.  They  lingered  until  the  last 
dying  flush  of  day  had  faded  from  the  ra- 
diant heavens,  and  the  gentle  solemnity  of 
an  English  twilight  spread  its  veil  over  the 
shadowy  earth. 

"  Yon  mantling  cloud  has  hid  from  sight 
The  last  faint  pulse  of  quivering  light," 

said  Gerald,  speaking  in  the  words  of  a  favorite 
poet. 


14G  SAND    DRAWINGS. 

"Yes,"  resumed  Caroline,  continuing  the 
train  of  thought  expressed  in  the  concluding 
stanzas  of  the  same  sweet  strain,  "  and  thus 
may  our  spirits'  light  at  length  be  merged  in 
the  full  brightness  of  eternal  love." 


A  MOORLAND  RAMBLE. 


"  The  lark  has  her  gay  song  begun  ; 

She  leaves  her  grassy  nest, 
And  soars  till  the  UNRISEN  SUN 

Gleams  on  her  speckled  breast. 
Now  let  me  leave  my  restless  bed, 
And  o'er  the  spangled  uplands  tread ; 

Till  on  the  mountain's  summit  gray, 
I  sit  me  down,  and  mark  the  glorious  dawn  of  day." 
HENBT  KIHKE  WHITE. 


TIRING  the  greater  part  of  my 

residence  at  B ,  I  was  in  the 

habit  of  indulging  in  long  ram- 
bles among  the  lower  ranges  of 
the  grand,  solitary  downs,  and 
aiong  the  picturesque  and  rock- 
bound  coast ;  visiting  every  spot  which  natural 
beauty,  or  the  spell  of  association  with  the  far 
past  rendered  interesting,  until  at  length  each 
beetling  cliff,  and  lowly  farm-house,  and  an- 
cient parish  church  became  almost  as  well- 
known  to  me  as  to  the  native  inhabitants  of 
the  district. 


148  A    MOORLAND    KAMBLE. 

In  all  my  wanderings,  however,  I  had  not 
once  ventured  upon  an  EARLY  walk.  The 
delicious  purity  and  freshness  of  the  dewy 
dawn  were  joys  of  whose  existence  I  had  no 
personal  experience.  I  had  been  an  invalid 
from  childhood ;  and  although  equal  at  times 
to  a  considerable  amount  of  exertion  and  fa- 
tigue, I  was  yet  subject  to  repeated  and  severe 
attacks  of  illness,  which  rendered  a  certain 
degree  of  attention  to  my  health  quite  indis- 
pensable. 

It  happened  one  morning  towards  the  end 
of  May,  that  I  awoke  at  daybreak  from  a  re- 
freshing sleep,  feeling  so  well  and  strong,  and 
so  free  from  the  oppressive  headache  to  which 
I  was  usually  liable  at  that  hour,  that  I  was 
seized  with  a  sudden  and  irresistible  desire  to 
watch  the  glories  of  the  rising  sun  from  the 
highest  peak  of  the  Dunnose,  or  Dark-Head 
Cliffs.  I  should  have  ample  time,  for  the 
breakfast  hour  was  late,  owing  to  the  pressing 
occupations  of  several  members  of  the  family, 
and  also  from  kindly  consideration  for  the 
comfort  of  their  invalid  guest ;  so,  quickly 
springing  out  of  bed,  I  wrote  a  hurried  note 
explaining  the  reason  of  my  unwonted  absence 
at  that  hour,  lest  any  of  my  friends  should 
seek  me  in  my  chamber,  and  be  alarmed  at 


A    MOORLAND    RAMBLE.  149 

my  mysterious  disappearance.  I  folded  it  and 
placed  it  on  the  dressing-table ;  and  then  slip- 
ping a  couple  of  biscuits  into  my  pocket,  and 
taking  a  small  Church  Service  in  my  hand,  I 
softly  unclosed  the  door,  and  gliding  noise- 
lessly down  the  wide  staircase  and  across  the 
hall,  I  soon  emerged  upon  the  sloping  velvet 
lawn,  and  stood  there  gazing  on  the  faint  rosy 
flush  which  just  began  to  tinge  the  eastern 
sky,  and  inhaling  with  delight  the  sweet  per- 
fume of  the  violets  and  lilies  of  the  valley, 
which  bloomed  in  rich  profusion  beneath  the 
shelter  of  the  tall  range  of  wooded  cliffs  that 
formed  the  boundary  of  my  friend's  beautiful 
pleasure-ground.  The  view  I  thence  com- 
manded of  the  distant  ocean  was  peculiarly 
magnificent ;  and  I  resolved,  without  further 
loss  of  time,  to  proceed  to  the  enjoyment  of 
my  contemplated  ramble  along  the  summit  of 
the  overhanging  crags. 

Scarcely,  however,  had  I  reached  the  village, 
ere  I  began  to  fear  that  I  should  be  disap- 
pointed of  my  promised  pleasure.  The  tide 
just  then  chanced  to  be  very. low;  therefore,  of 
course,  the  aspect  of  the  shore  would  be  much 
less  inviting ;  and  I  tried  to  determine  in  which 
direction  I  should  bend  my  steps. 

While  still  endeavoring  to  decide  this  per- 


150  A    MOORLAND    RAMBLE. 

plexing  question,  I  happened  to  raise  my 
eyes  towards  the  downs.  They  were  looming 
grandly  up  into  the  amber  sky  through  their 
silvery  veil  of  mist,  and  I  felt  strongly  tempted 
to  explore  their  hitherto  unseen  recesses. 

This  noble  chain  rises  to  the  height  of  full 
eight  hundred  feet ;  and  although,  to  a  person 
standing  at  its  base,  the  ascent  might  appear 
gentle  and  easy  in  the  extreme,  yet  I  had  been 
assured  that  it  was  in  reality  very  steep,  and 
at  certain  points  even  precipitous ;  neverthe- 
less, I  felt  resolved  to  try,  for  there  was  some- 
thing so  strangely  exhilarating  in  the  fresh 
morning  air  that  for  the  moment  I  hardly  real- 
ized the  possibility  of  exerting  myself  beyond 
my  strength. 

Having  proceeded  for  a  short  distance  along 
the  high-road,  I  presently  struck  into  a  foot- 
path, which  led  across  a  grassy  meadow  to  the 
very  base  of  the  hills. 

Choosing  a  point  which,  to  my  inexperienced 
eye,  seemed  practicable,  I  vigorously  began 
the  ascent ;  but  loss  of  breath,  combined  with 
an  overpowering  sense  of  giddiness,  speedily 
compelled  me  to  desist.  Just  as  I  had  regained 
the  level  ground,  an  old  country-woman  passed 
that  way.  She  looked  surprised  when  I  in- 
quired whether  there  was  no  possibility  of 


A   MOORLAND    RAMBLE.  151 

reaching  the  summit  of  the  hills ;  but  replied, 
without  a  moment's  hesitation,  "  Sure,  yes, 

ma'am,  well  enough,  if  you  go  on  to  Y , 

and  there  take  the  road  that  leads  up  past  the 
quarry  ;  you  will  find  it  quite  low,  and  easy- 
like,  compared  with  this." 

Thanking  the  good  cottager  for  her  infor- 
mation, I  proceeded  to  act  on  her  advice.  The 
quarry  of  which  she  had  spoken  was  not  far 
distant ;  and  upon  reaching  it,  I  acknowledged 
the  wisdom  of  the  counsel  which  had  been 
afforded  me.  The  ascent  was  less  abrupt,  and 
I  saw  it  would  be  in  my  power  to  gain  the 
summit  of  one  of  the  lower  peaks,  whence  I 
might  attain,  without  much  trouble,  the  con- 
necting range,  and  pursue  my  walk  at  pleasure 

in  the  direction  of  St.  Lawrence,  or  of  B . 

The  path  was  safe,  although  rather  slippery ; 
so,  clinging  for  support  to  the  straggling  gorse 
and  fragments  of  rock  which  lay  on  either 
side,  I  at  length  realized  the  object  of  my  wish, 
and  stood  upon  the  highest  point,  quite  faint 
and  breathless,  but  not  a  little  gratified  with 
the  success  of  my  undertaking. 

Unfortunately  I  was  just  too  late  to  catch 
the  first  glorious  burst  of  sunshine  on  the 
mountain's  brow,  but  the  prospect  upon  which 
I  gazed  left  small  room  for  regret.  Far,  far,  in 


152  A    MOORLAND    RAMBLE. 

the  valley  at  my  feet,  lay  the  pleasant  little 

town  of  V ;  its  white  dwellings,  built  upon 

a  succession  of  terraces,  rising  upwards  from 
the  water's  edge,  and  the  tall  spire  of  its  beau- 
tiful church  towering  guardian-like  above  all. 
Beyond  stretched  the  boundless  ocean — its  vast 
expanse  unbroken  save  by  one  white  sail, 
which  glided  dream-like  on  the  far  verge  of 
the  horizon ;  while  the  glad  spring  sunshine 
poured  a  flood  of  beauty  over  earth,  and  sea, 
and  sky.  I  stood  long  contemplating  this 
lovely  scene,  and  listening  to  the  thrilling  gush 
of  melody  which  burst  almost  simultaneously 
from  the  thousand  dwellers  of  the  moors.  The 
aspect  of  these  lofty  downs  was  wholly  unlike 
what  I  had  pictured  to  myself :  instead  of  the 
carpet  of  smooth  emerald  turf,  which  covered 
their  steep  sides,  I  beheld,  to  my  surprise, 
a  wild  and  most  romantic  moorland  tract, 
apparently  extending  inland  for  many  miles. 
It  was  a  spot  such  as  I  had  often  read  of, 
but  never  seen  till  then ;  and  I  straightway 
planned  another  expedition,  when  I  should  be 
able  to  explore  this  new-found  region  more  at 
leisure. 

Upon  looking  at  my  watch,  I  saw  that  full 
two  hours  yet  remained  at  my  disposal ;  and 
anxious  to  profit  by  them  to  the  uttermost,  I 


A   MOORLAND   RAMBLE.  153 

turned  inland,  and  commenced  striking  deep 
across  the  plain. 

There  was  something  strangely  fascinating 
in  the  character  of  the  scenery,  to  which  the 
pure  brightness  of  the  morning  lent  a  smile 
of  gladness,  despite  its  extreme  loneliness  and 
desolation.  I  have  since  then  wandered  often 
on  those  moors ;  in  winter,  when  their  brown 
expanse  was  draped  with  a  light  snowy  mantle, 
as  rare  as  it  was  short-lived  in  that  genial 
clime ;  and  on  autumn  days,  when  the  whole 
undulating  surface  was  dark  with  the  rich 
purple  bloom  of  the  wild  heather,  the  deep 
subdued  coloring  of  which  shed  an  air  of  soft, 
sad  beauty  over  all  the  landscape. 

But  melancholy  was  unthought  of  in  this 
merry  month  of  May,  when  the  long  sweep  of 
moorland  was  literally  dazzling  with  the  bright 
golden  blossoms  of  the  gorse,  and  the  air 
seemed  laden  with  its  aromatic  odor.  I  roamed 
on  and  on  amid  the  flowery  waste,  until  com- 
pelled by  weariness  to  pause.  A  charming 
resting-place  was  close  at  hand :  it  was  a  tall 
rock,  adorned  with  many-tinted  lichens,  near 
which  sparkled  a  clear  spring ;  and  seating 
myself  beneath  its  friendly  shadow,  I  prepared 
to  read  the  Morning  Service  of  the  Church.  I 
felt  peculiarly  able  at  that  moment  to  realize 


154  A    MODEL  AND    RAMBLE. 

the  soothing  and  elevating  power  of  our  most 
beautiful  Liturgy ;  and,  in  particular,  I  loved 
to  think  upon  the  countless  multitudes  through- 
out the  world  with  whom  I  might  ever  join  in 
spirit  in  these  daily  prayers,  which,  as  it  has 
been  truly  said,  "  form  an  indissoluble  bond  of 
union  to  those  who,  although  separated  by  dis- 
tance, are  yet  ONE  in  affection,  and  faith,  and 
hope."  A  sense  of  calmness  and  repose  stole 
over  me,  as  having  concluded  with  the  prayer 
for  Christ's  Church  Militant,  I  closed  the  book  ; 
and  leaning  back  upon  the  mossed,  gray  rock, 
I  fell  into  a  deep  and  tranquil  slumber. 

Exhausted  from  fatigue  and  want  of  food,  I 
slept  quietly  lor  several  hours  ;  and  when  I  at 
length  awoke,  I  found,  to  my  dismay,  that  it 
was  past  noon.  "What  anxiety  must  not  my 
friends  have  suffered !  In  an  instant  I  forgot 
my  weakness;  and  springing  from  the  rocky 
seat,  I  eagerly  set  out  upon  my  homeward 
walk. 

But  now  a  new  and  unexpected  difficulty 
presented  itself.  I  was  utterly  at  a  loss  which 
way  to  turn ;  I  tried  to  remember  from  which 
side  I  had  approached  the  rock,  but  my  recol- 
lections were  shadowy  and  indistinct.  All 
around  was  one  unbroken  moorland  waste, 
rich  in  unnumbered  beauties,  but  with  nothing 


A    MOOULAXI)    RAMBLE.  155 

to  afford  the  slightest  indication  of  the  course 
I  should  pursue ;  as  to  my  ever-faithful  guide, 
the  ocean,  of  that  I  had  long  since  lost  sight. 

When  the  first  emotions  of  alarm,  or,  per- 
haps, I  should  more  correctly  say  vexation, 
had  subsided,  I  began  to  consider  what  had 
best  be  done.  One  thing,  at  all  events,  was 
certain  :  I  must  endeavor  to  recruit  my 
strength.  Most  providentially  the  means  for 
doing  so  were  within  my  reach ;  and  so,  before 
proceeding  further,  I  made  a  hasty,  and  I  must 
own,  enjoyable  meal  of  my  two  hard  biscuits, 
with  the  addition  of  a  refreshing  draught  from 
the  pure  mountain-spring.  When  I  had  fin- 
ished, I  felt  much  revived,  and  more  inclined 
than  before  to  set  out  with  spirit  upon  my 
travels. 

I  was  by  no  means  seriously  uneasy ;  I  be 
lieved  the  moors  to  be  of  comparatively  small 
extent ;  and  fancied  that,  by  keeping  steadily 
in  any  one  direction,  I  should  once  more  have 
the  ocean  as  a  way-mark.  With  a  view  ot 
acting  upon  this  assurance,  I  went  resolutely 
onward ;  and,  at  the  end  of  an  hour's  walk,  I 
found  myself  approaching  the  verge  of  an  ex- 
tended line  of  cliffs,  overlooking  a  rich  and 
fertile  country,  while  the  blue  ocean  sparkled 
in  the  distance.  I  rejoiced  sincerely  at  the 


156  A    MOOKLAXD    RAMBLE. 

welcome  sight ;  but  my  happiness  was  of  short 
duration,  for,  far  as  eye  could  reach  on  either 
hand,  the  high,  green  hills  rose  almost  perpen- 
dicularly from  the  valley,  or  stretched  away 
in  long,  steep  slopes  as  slippery  as  glass.  It 
would  be  folly  to  dream  of  attempting  the 
descent ;  and  I  went  on  and  on,  vainly  seeking 
for  some  point  which  should  present  a  less  ap- 
palling aspect.  At  last  I  imagined  this  to  be 
attained,  and  cautiously  placed  my  foot  upon 
the  slope ;  but  at  the  very  outset  I  completely 
lost  my  balance,  and  should  infallibly  have 
been  carried  down  the  precipice  but  for  the 
energy  with  which  I  grasped  a  projecting  rock, 
which  enabled  me  to  regain,  although  not  with- 
out difficulty,  my  former  station. 

But  what  now  should  I  do  ?  "Was  it  not 
possible  that  for  me,  at  least,  the  cliffs  were 
quite  unscalable  except  at  that  one  point  to 
which  I  had  been  directed  in  the  morning  ; 
and  if  so,  how  was  I  to  find  my  way  there 
again  ?  I  had  not  the  faintest  notion  of  my 
whereabouts ;  the  lovely  scene  on  which  I 
gazed  was  all  unknown  to  me ;  it  might,  for 
aught  I  could  tell  to  the  contrary,  be  miles 

and  miles  from  B ,  by  any  other  road  than 

this  upon  which  I  had  so  rashly  ventured ; 
and  at  this  thought,  I  for  the  first  time  fully 


A   MOORLAND   RAMBLE.  157 

realized  the  perplexity  in  which  1  was  in- 
volved. A  flock  of  sheep  tranquilly  grazing 
on  the  mountain's  side,  apparently  alarmed  by 
the  noise  occasioned  by  some  falling  stone, 
bounded  lightly  down  the  precipitous  cliff, 
and  soon  were  out  of  sight,  although  the  sil- 
very music  of  the  bells  they  bore  could  still 
be  distinctly  heard.  How  I  sighed  for  the 
power  with  which  they  were  gifted !  but  was 
not  I,  in  reality,  as  secure  from  harm  ?  Yes, 
of  this  blessed  truth  I  felt  assured ;  and  I  gazed 
with  reverence  and  love  into  the  deep-blue 
sky,  and  prayed  fervently  that  I  might  be  per- 
mitted to  regain  my  home. 

For  now  I  could  no  longer  conceal  from  my- 
self the  fact,  that  there  was  some  reason  for 
anxiety.  The  downs  were  wild,  and  not  often 
visited ;  no  one  might  chance  to  pass  that  way 
for  days ;  and  what  if  I  should  continue  to 
roam  vainly  over  them,  unable  to  regain  the 
quarry  path?  My  friends  possessed  no  clue 
by  which  to  trace  me  through  my  wanderings, 
for  in  my  hurried  note  I  had  merely  stated  my 
intention  of  walking  towards  Dunnose;  and 
how  could  they,  knowing  as  they  did  my  state 
of  health,  imagine  for  an  instant  that  I  should 
have  ventured  upon  so  arduous  an  under- 
taking ? 

14 


158  A    MOORLAND   RAMBLE. 

Perhaps  the  weakness  and  fatigue  under 
which  I  labored  may  have  caused  me  to  exag- 
gerate my  danger :  on  a  sudden,  my  morning's 
interview  with  the  old  cottager  rushed  across 
my  memory,  succeeded  by  a  thrill  of  gratitude. 
I  had  seen  her  once  before,  and  knew  that  she 

belonged  to  B ,  and  therefore,  of  course, 

was  personally  known  to  my  friends.  Doubt- 
less, should  inquiries  be  made  among  the  vil- 
lagers, she  would  not  fail  to  relate  the  circum- 
stances attendant  upon  our  meeting,  and  thus 
the  downs  would  be  searched  in  every  direction 
without  loss  of  time. 

Not  a  little  cheered  by  this  reflection,  I 
speedily  resolved  to  make  a  fresh  experiment ; 
I  would  once  more  turn  inland,  and  courage- 
ously pursue  my  way  in  a  straight  line,  in  the 
hope  of  reaching  the  opposite  extremity  of  the 
moors. 

This  I  did  accordingly ;  and,  after  walking 
for  about  two  miles,  I  was  rejoiced  by  observ- 
ing a  very  narrow  footpath,  winding  in  an  east- 
erly direction.  Unhesitatingly  I  followed  in 
the  course  thus  indicated,  but  great  was  my 
surprise  when,  at  the  end  of  half  an  hour,  I 
came  upon  a  broad  track  of  cart-wheels,  dis- 
tinctly marked  upon  the  turf.  How  any  ve- 
hicle could  possibly  attain  these  heights,  was  a 


A    MOORLAND    BAMBLE.  159 

mystery  which  I  tried  in  vain  to  solve.  One 
tiling,  at  all  events,  was  certain:  there  must 
be  some  manner  of  avoiding  those  formidable 
precipices,  and  with  a  feeling  of  relief  I  still 
went  on. 

I  had  not  proceeded  far  before  the  sound  of 
several  voices  met  my  ear.  They  were  soft, 
clear,  ringing  tones,  which  awoke  the  echoes 
of  the  lonely  moor ;  I  listened  intently  to  dis- 
cover whence  they  came,  and  the  next  mo- 
ment, upon  rounding  an  abruptly-rising  knoll, 
a  pleasing  picture  was  presented  to  my  view. 

Before  me,  in  the  centre  of  an  open  space  of 
greensward,  was  placed  the  picturesque,  old- 
fashioned  cart,  by  means  of  which  I  had  been 
guided  to  the  spot.  It  was  more  than  half 
filled  with  lumps  of  chalk,  and  at  a  little  dis- 
tance stood  the  patient  donkey  that  had  drawn 
it  thither,  seemingly  well  occupied  with  a  bed 
of  thistles.  Towards  the  left  the  ground  sank 
into  a  sort  of  hollow,  whence  the  merry  sounds 
which  had  at  first  attracted  me,  still  issued.  I 
went  up  gently,  and  looked  over  the  verge ;  it 
was  an  extensive  chalk-pit,  not  deep  by  any 
means,  and  really  seeming  as  sheltered  and  in- 
viting a  nook  as  heart  could  wish — such,  at 
least,  was  evidently  the  opinion  of  its  present 
occupants. 


160  A   MOORLAND    RAMBLE. 

The  party  consisted  of  a  man  of  middle  age 
and  pleasing  countenance,  surrounded  by  a 
group  of  children,  five  in  number,  the  eldest 
not  exceeding  thirteen  years,  the  youngest  be- 
tween three  and  four.  They  were  seated  in  a 
circle,  apparently  engaged  in  discussing  the 
contents  of  a  luncheon-basket,  so  that  my  pres- 
ence was  unobserved  at  first ;  but  when  I  ad- 
dressed the  honest  laborer,  and  civilly  inquired 
the  way  to  B ,  he  started  to  his  feet,  utter- 
ing an  exclamation  of  surprise  at  the  sight  of  a 
lady  in  that  solitary  spot. 

"  To  B ,  ma'am,"  he  replied,  in  answer 

to  my  question  ;  "it  is  full  two  miles  from  here 
— at  least  by  the  nearest  road  which  you  could 
travel,  for  I  think  it  would  hardly  do  for  you 
to  try  the  path  among  the  cliffs ;  it  is  difficult 
to  find  for  those  who  do  not  know  the  country 
well,  and  a  false  step  might  easily  carry  one 
down  a  precipice." 

"  Thank  you ;  I  am  very  willing  to  take  the 
longer  way,"  I  said,  feeling  most  truly  grateful 
to  learn  that  I  was  within  a  dozen  miles  of 

B ;  and  I  related  to  my  new  acquaintance 

the  story  of  my  misadventures. 

"Rambling  about,  quite  lost  among  the 
downs,  since  sunrise,"  he  exclaimed,  rising  ae 
he  spoke,  and  coming  up  to  where  I  stood 


A   MOORLAND   RAMBLE.  161 

"  and  I'll  engage  now  yon  feel  quite  tired-like, 
and  ready  to  drop,  ma'am,"  he  added,  in  a  tone 
of  kindness. 

The  children  also  scrambled  from  their  re- 
treat, and  came  clustering  round  us,  eyeing 
the  wearied  stranger-lady  with  looks  of  curios- 
ity and  interest. 

"Yes,  I  am  indeed  tired,"  I  replied,  in  an- 
swer to  his  observation ;  "  but  my  chief  trouble 
is  about  my  friends,  who  must,  I  fear,  have 
been  seriously  anxious  on  my  account." 

"  Might  I  ask  at  which  house  at  B you 

are  staying,  ma'am  ?"  he  inquired. 

A  low  murmur  passed  among  the  children 
as  I  gave  the  name. 

"At  ,"  rejoined  their  father  quickly. 

"  I  was  formerly  the  gardener  there,  and  so  I 
am  well  acquainted  with  the  family.  Several 
of  my  children,  too,  belonged  in  those  days  to 
the  parish  school ;  and  you  know,  ma'am,  what 
a  kind  interest  the  ladies  take  in  the  welfare  ot 
the  little  pupils." 

Before  I  had  time  to  answer,  the  second  boy, 
a  fine  active-looking  child  of  twelve,  respect- 
fully requested  leave  to  go  at  once  by  the 

shortest  path  to  B ,  and  assure  the  ladies 

that  their  guest  was  safe,  and  would  soon  be 

with  them. 

140 


162  A    MODEL  AND    E  AMBLE. 

"Yes,  that  will  be  best,"  the  father  said; 
and  then  turning  to  me,  he  added,  "  if  you  will 
allow  me,  ma'am,  to  send  my  little  girl  to  put 
you  on  the  right  track,  I  shall  be  much  easier 
in  my  mind." 

I  hastily  interposed  at  this,  observing  that  I 
could  not  bear  to  be  the  cause  of  so  much  in- 
convenience; but  while  I  was  yet  speaking, 
the  boy  had  set  off  at  full  speed  across  the 
heath ;  and  the  little  maiden  timidly,  but 
eagerly  assured  me,  that  she  should  like,  of  all 
things,  to  go  with  me :.  "  I  often  walk  much 
farther,"  she  continued ;  "  and  we  drove  here 
in  the  cart  this  morning,  so  that  I  have  had 
nothing  to  tire  me  to-day." 

"  The  cart,"  I  said,  my  attention  being  once 
more  recalled  to  what  had  from  the  first  so 
strongly  excited  my  curiosity  :  "  pray  tell  me 
how  you  can  contrive  to  bring  a  cart  up  here 
among  these  hills  ?" 

The  explanation  of  a  circumstance  which 
had  so  much  perplexed  me  proved  extremely 
simple.  At  the  distance  of  a  few  miles  from 
the  water  the  moors  declined  into  a  gentle 
slope,  and  gradually  became  almost  level. 
"  His  home,"  the  man  continued,  "  was  in  an 
inland  hamlet,  where  he  was  in  the  employ- 
ment of  a  wealthy  farmer,  who  frequently  de- 


A   MOORLAND   RAMBLE.  163 

spatched  his  laborers  to  the  moor  in  search 
of  chalk,  a  substance  much  in  use  for  the 
purpose  of  fertilizing  the  ground.  This  was," 
he  assured  me,  "  a  great  pleasure  to  the  chil- 
dren, who  were  always  permitted  to  accom- 
pany him  whenever  his  expedition  chanced 
to  fall  upon  their  holiday,  as  in  the  present 
instance." 

I  thanked  the  friendly  peasant  for  this  in- 
formation ;  and  then  turning  to  his  little 
daughter,  I  signified  my  readiness  to  go  on  at 
once,  if  she  still  felt  inclined  to  bear  me  com- 
pany. She  smilingly  assented  to  my  proposal ; 
but  once  more  the  laborer  detained  us,  by  say- 
ing in  a  respectful  tone : 

"I  hope,  ma'am,  you  will  not  think  it  a 
liberty  if  I  offer  you  a  piece  of  bread  and 
cheese.  You  have  something  of  a  walk  be- 
fore you ;  and  I  know  that  after  taking  food, 
you  would  feel  stronger,  for,  indeed,  you  look 
sadly  pale  and  weak." 

I  gratefully  accepted  this  kind  offer ;  for, 
having  eaten  nothing  all  that  day  except  my 
two  hard  biscuits,  I  stood  much  in  need  of 
some  refreshment.  Seating  myself,  therefore, 
in  a  grassy  hollow,  I  was  soon  bountifully  sup- 
plied with  sweet,  fresh,  home-made  bread,  to- 
gether with  a  slice  of  delicate  white  cheese, 


164:  A   MOORLAND   EAMBLE. 

and  a  small  bunch  of  early  radishes,  the  very 
best,  I  fancied,  that  were  ever  grown. 

"  They  are  Harry's,"  observed  the  peasant, 
in  answer  to  my  commendation ;  "  he  has  been 
allowed  to  cultivate  a  border  in  the  kitchen- 
garden,  and  he  is  proud  enough  of  those 
radishes,  I'll  engage." 

"He  has  reason  to  be  so,"  I  replied ;  "but 
is  Harry  the  boy  who  has  so  obligingly  gone 
for  me  to  B ?" 

"  Yes,  ma'am,  the  very  same ;  he  is  a  good 
lad,  is  my  Harry.  One  day  last  year  I  gave 
him  the  finest  bush  of  gooseberries  in  the  gar- 
den as  a  reward  for  industry ;  and  would  you 
belieye  that  he  scarcely  tasted  one  himself,  but 
kept  the  greater  part  to  give  to  a  sick  neigh- 
bor, and  the  rest  for  his  two  younger  sisters  ?" 

I  was  much  pleased  with  this  narrative ;  for 
there  are  few  traits  of  character  more  lovely 
to  behold  than  unselfishness  in  early  youth, 
and  I  had  learned  to  know  that  it  can  never 
be  attained  without  the  aid  of  high  religious 
principle.  There  was  a  certain  tone  pervad- 
ing all  the  words  and  actions  of  the  laborer's 
family,  which  served  to  convince  me  that  this 
was  peculiarly  with  them  a  guiding  influence. 

After  a  few  parting  words  I  took  my  leave, 
and  set  out,  accompanied  by  my  little  guide. 


A   MOORLAND   KAMBLE.  165 

By  the  way  I  entered  into  conversation  with 
the  child,  and  her  gentle  and  intelligent  replies 
tended  strongly  to  confirm  my  previous  in> 
pressions.  She  appeared  much  attached  to 
33 ,  her  former  home  ;  and  dwelt  particu- 
larly upon  the  school,  and  the  many  proofs  of 
affectionate  interest,  which  the  children  were 
constantly  accustomed  to  receive  from  the 
ladies  of  the  parish,  with  most  of  whom  I  was 
intimately  acquainted. 

"Should  you  like  to  live  again  at  B ?" 

I  asked. 

"I  am  quite  happy  where  we  are  staying 
now,"  she  answered  in  a  cheerful  voice,  "  ex- 
cept that  I  can  seldom  see  the  ladies  and  my 
little  playmates,"  she  added,  while  her  bright 
face  slightly  clouded. 

I  was  fortunately  well  qualified  to  give  a 
full  account  of  all  her  friends ;  for  I  often  vis- 
ited the  parish  school,  and  nearly  all  of  the 
pupils  were  known  to  me,  at  least  by  name. 
The  child  listened  with  evident  delight,  and  we 
were  both  surprised  when  we  emerged  upon 
the  line  of  lofty  cliffs,  with  the  broad  sea  in 
view.  Our  walk  thus  far  had  seemed  very 
short. 

But  I  was  weary,  and  obliged  to  rest ;  so  we 
sat  down  upon  a  heathery  knoll,  overlooking 


166  A   MOORLAND   RAMBLE. 

the  magnificent  expanse  of  waters.  In  the 
deep,  unbroken  stillness  that  prevailed,  my 
ear  was  attracted  by  the  low,  faint  murmur 
of  a  little  streamlet,  one  of  the  innumerable 
springs  which  take  their  rise  among  these  hills. 
I  sat  and  watched  it  gliding  from  point  to 
point  of  the  precipitous  rocks,  and  even  wind- 
ing downwards  in  its  genial  course  to  fertilize 
the  bosom  of  the  vale.  The  sight  recalled  to 
memory  a  sweet  passage,  descriptive  of  Eng- 
lish pastoral  scenery,  which  had  often  charmed 
me  in  America;  and,  half  unconsciously,  I 
repeated  it  aloud : 

"  Go  up  and  watch  the  new-born  rill 
Just  trickling  from  its  mossy  bed, 
Streaking  the  heath-clad  hill 
With  a  bright  emerald  thread." 

"  1  know  that  hymn,"  the  child  said  quickly ; 
and  then  coloring,  she  added,  in  confusion, 
"  but  I  beg  pardon,  ma'am,  for  having  been  so 
rude  as  to  interrupt  you." 

"  Never  mind  about  that,  my  dear,"  I  an- 
swered ;  "  but  tell  me  where  you  learned  that 
pretty  poem.  I  suppose,  though,  it  was  at 
school." 

"  Yes ;  and  we  used  to  learn  a  great  many 
other  hymns  written  by  the  same  clergyman ; 


A    MOORLAND    RAMBLE.  167 

they  were  all  beautiful,  but  I  think  sometimes 
that  this  one  is  almost  my  favorite." 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you  like  hymns,"  I  re- 
plied ;  "  but  why  has  this  in  particular  afforded 
you  such  pleasure  ?" 

"  I  was  always  pleased  with  it,"  she  an- 
swered, "  especially  with  the  first  few  verses, 
although  it  was  some  time  before  I  understood 
them  ;  but  after  we  had  learned  the  whole 
poem  by  heart,  one  of  the  ladies  explained  its 
meaning  to  us,  and  then  I  liked  it  more  than 
ever." 

"  Suppose  you  were  to  repeat  it  to  me  now," 
I  said ;  "  and  afterwards  I  should  be  glad  to 
hear  all  that  the  lady  told  you." 

"With  true  respect  and  courtesy  the  girl  did 
not  stay  to  be  entreated,  but  instantly  acceding 
to  my  request,  she  recited  in  a  sweet,  clear 
voice  the  following  stanzas : 

"  Go  up  and  watch  the  new-born  rill 
Just  trickling  from  its  mossy  bed, 
Streaking  the  heath-clad  hill 
With  a  bright  emerald  thread. 

"  Canst  thou  her  bold  career  foretell, 

What  rocks  she  shall  o'erleap  or  rend, 
How  far  in  ocean's  swell 
Her  freshening  billows  send  ? 


168  A   MOORLAND    KAMBLE. 

"Perchance  that  little  brook  shall  Jlow 

The  bulwark  of  some  mighty  realm, 
Bear  navies  to  and  fro 

"With  inonarchs  at  their  helm. 

"  Or  canst  thou  guess,  how  far  away 

Some  sister  nymph  beside  her  urn 
Reclining  night  and  day, 
Mid  reeds  and  mountain  fern, 

"  Nurses  her  store  with  thine  to  blend, 

"When  many  a  moor  and  glen  are  past, 
Then  in  the  wide  sea  end 
Their  spotless  lives  at  last. 

"  Even  so  the  course  ot  prayer  who  knows  ? 

It  springs  in  silence  where  it  will, 
Springs  out  of  sight,  and  flows 
At  first  a  lonely  rill. 

"  But  streams  shall  meet  it  by  and  by 

From  thousand  sympathetic  hearts, 
Together  swelling  high 

Their  chant  of  many  parts." 

There  was  a  moment's  silence  when  she  had 
concluded  ;  and  then,  fancying  that  I  awaited 
her  promised  explanation,  my  little  friend  be- 
gan, with  simple  reverence : 

"Miss  Edith  told  us  that  we  should  think  of 
this  in  church,  and  try  always  to  remember 


A   MOORLAND   RAMBLE.  169 

when  our  beautiful  prayers  are  offered  up,  that 
there  are  hundreds  and  thousands  of  our  fel- 
low-Christians throughout  Europe  whose  voices 
are  then  also  raised  in  the  very  same  petitions. 
She  spoke,  too,  of  the  Church  in  America,  and 
in  India,  and  Africa,  and  in  all  parts  of  the 
known  world;  and  then  asked  us  whether  it 
was  not  pleasant  to  feel  that,  in  the  course  of 
a  few  short  hours,  the  same  high  sacrifice  of 
praise  and  thanksgiving  would  ascend  to  God's 
eternal  throne  from  all  the  nations  of  the 
earth." 

"  And,"  I  inquired,  "  did  you  not  agree  with 
Miss  Edith,  that  this  is  a  very  beautiful  and 
consoling  thought  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  did,  indeed,"  the  child  said  earnestly. 
"  You  know,"  she  continued,  simply,  "  it  makes 
so  many  more  for  one  to  love." 

"  Yes,"  I  replied ;  "  when  one  is  tempted  to 
feel  sad  and  lonely,  it  is  a  blessing  to  think  of 
the  vast  assembly  of  Christ's  holy  Church  to 
which  we  belong.  You  are  too  young  to  real- 
ize this  fully  now ;  but  year  by  year,  should 
your  life  be  spared,  you  will  enter  into  the 
truth  of  this  doctrine  more  and  more.  It  is 
this,"  I  added,  "which  makes  me  so  happy 
here  in  England  away  from  many  of  my  dear- 
est friends ;  although  here,  too,  there  are  some 


170  A   MOORLAND   RAMBLE. 

whom  I  most  fondly  love.  I  am  a  member  of 
the  Church  in  America." 

The  little  girl  looked  up  with  astonishment 
into  my  face,  and  then  rapidly  poured  forth  a 
flood  of  questions  relating  to  the  far  "Western 
land,  from  whose  bright  shores  I  came.  It  was 
delightful  to  gratify  so  intelligent  an  auditor ; 
and  we  talked  long  of  the  new  world,  and  its 
countless  marvels ;  of  its  glorious  mountains, 
waterfalls,  and  lakes ;  its  waving  fields  of  golden 
maize ;  the  dazzling  splendor  of  its  autumnal 
forests ;  and  the  wondrous  beauty  of  the  deep- 
blue  sky,  which  canopies  the  whole. 

All  was  full  of  an  absorbing  interest  to  my 
young  English  listener ;  and  not  least  did  she 
love  to  hear  of  the  little  school  in  which  I  had 
so  often  labored,  and  of  the  dear  children, 
who,  although  absent  bodily,  were  ever  pres- 
ent in  my  heart ;  more  especially,  when  I  could 
realize  that  we  were,  indeed,  brought  near  in 
the  sacred  services  of  the  Universal  Church. 
I  told  her  of  their  Christmas-tide  festivities ; 
how  they  participated  with  English  children, 
both  in  the  sad  solemnities  of  Lent,  and  in  the 
joy  of  Easter;  and  of  the  pleasant  holiday 
treat  which  was  always  provided  for  them  on 
the  anniversary  of  the  "  Holy  Innocents,"  that 
season  which  is  so  peculiarly  calculated  to 


A    MOORLAND    RAMBLE.  171 

awaken  warm  emotions  of  love  and  self-devo- 
tion in  the  young.  These,  and  a  variety  of 
other  themes,  furnished  abundant  food  for  con- 
versation ;  and  I  cannot  tell  how  long  we 
might  have  lingered,  had  I  not  at  length  reso- 
lutely arisen  from  my  seat,  feeling  quite  rested 
and  refreshed,  and  conscious  that  duty  both 

towards  my  friends  at  B ,  and  towards  the 

father  of  my  little  guide,  called  on  me  to  pro- 
ceed without  delay.  As  we  pursued  our  walk, 
I  inquired  of  my  companion  whether  she  and 
her  brother  Harry  could  read  writing  easily ; 
and  on  being  informed  that  they  could,  I  told 
her  that  I  had  employed  some  leisure  hours  in 
copying  into  a  blank-book  several  of  those 
sweet  children's  tales,  which  are  almost  always 
to  be  found  in  our  American  Church  journals ; 
and  that  if  she  could  obtain  leave  to  call  on 

me  during  the  week  at  B ,  I  should  have 

great  pleasure  in  giving  her  the  manuscript  as 
a  token  of  remembrance.  Never  was  offer 
more  gratefully  accepted ;  and  the  little  girl 
promised  to  be  with  me  on  the  following  Satur- 
day, should  all  be  well. 

We  had  now  turned  a  projecting  point,  and 
nearly  reached  the  termination  of  our  wander- 
ings. B ,  in  its  radiant  valley,  lay  beneath 

us;  the  calm,  pure  evening  sunlight,  falling 


172  A   MOORLAND   RAMBLE. 

gloriously  upon  its  peaceful  homes,  embosomed 
in  rich  masses  of  softly-shaded  foliage,  casting 
into  bold  relief  its  many  beacon  crags ;  bright- 
ening even  the  hoary  walls  of  its  old  church, 
beside  the  sounding  sea,  whose  dark,  smooth 
surface  was  gemmed  with  isles  of  gold  and 
silvery  light,  and  partially  illumining  a  pile  of 
black  and  rugged  rocks,  surmounted  by  an 
antique  wooden  cross. 

Welcome,  thrice  welcome,  was  the  sight  of 
my  fair  English  home !  And  truly  did  I  re- 
joice in  being  thus  permitted  to  regain  its 
tranquil  shelter.  The  child  led  me  from  the 
highest  chain  of  downs  to  one  still  lofty,  but 
of  slighter  elevation.  Here  I  affectionately 
said  good-night ;  and  after  watching  for  a  mo- 
ment her  rapid  progress  up  the  height,  and 
admiring  the  exquisite  effect  of  one  rounded 
peak,  whose  summit  was  enveloped  in  a  sheet 
of  rosy  mist,  I  pursued  my  way  along  a  nar- 
row sheep-path,  still  winding  gradually  down- 
ward, until  at  length  I  found  myself  beside  a 
private  gate,  which  led  from  the  top  of  the 
wooded  range,  where  I  stood,  into  the  garden 
of  my  friends.  The  whole  family  was  await- 
ing me  upon  the  lawn ;  and  ere  long  I  had 
changed  my  dress — rather  soiled  and  travel 
stained,  I  own — and  was  seated  in  the  large. 


A   MOORLAND   RAMBLE.  173 

airy  dining-room,  recounting  my  adventures, 
and  enjoying  the  luxury  of  a  most  refreshing 
cup  of  tea,  beneath  the  genial  influence  of 
which  all  traces  of  weariness  were  soon  dis- 
pelled, and  only  pleasant  ideas  remained  asso- 
ciated with  the  recollection  of  my  Moorland 
Ramble. 


A  PARISH  FESTIVAL. 


"  Silent  as  sunbeams,  and  as  sunbeams  bright, 
Thy  years  have  glided — and  we  greet  thee  now, 
In  the  soft  glory  of  thy  spirit's  light, 
The  bridal  wreath  upon  thy  vestal  brow." 


T  was  the  25th  of  January,  1858, 
the  marriage-day  of  the  Princess 
Royal.  Great  was  the  excite- 
ment throughout  all  England,  as 
the  nuptial  hour  drew  near ; 
heartfelt  and  fervent  the  prayers 
breathed  by  a  loyal  and  devoted  people,  in  be- 
half of  the  young  and  tender  maiden,  who,  in 
the  first  blush  of  womanhood,  was  called  upon 
to  quit  the  peaceful  seclusion  of  her  Island 
home,  the  fostering  care  of  loving  parents,  and 
the  long-tried  affection  of  that  noble  nation  of 
which  she  was  the  pride  and  flower,  to  venture 
alone  into  the  midst  of  strangers — a  dweller  in 
a  foreign  land. 

There    was    much    of    melancholy    in    the 


A   PARISH    FESTIVAL.  175 

thought ;  but  England  was  called  on  to  re- 
joice, and  countless  were  the  festivities  to 
which  the  event  gave  rise,  from  the  stately 
revels  held  in  the  mansions  of  the  great,  to 
the  humble  treat  provided  for  the  poor  and 
lowly — for  the  inmates  of  the  almshouse,  nay, 
for  the  very  beggars  in  the  streets.  All  were 
alike  actuated  by  one  common  impulse ;  and 
as  the  joyous  strains  of  mirth  swelled  loud 
and  high,  there  were  few,  perchance,  who 
paused  to  muse  upon  the  grief  which  even 
then  must  dwell  within  the  hearts  of  those 
who,  although  gifted  with  all  that  rank  and 
wealth  had  to  bestow,  were  yet  sorrowing 
upon  the  eve  of  a  painful  separation. 

We   were  not  without  some  festivities   at 

H :  I  say  we,  for  although  an  American 

by  birth  and  education,  I  had  now  been  living 
for  upwards  of  five  years  in  England,  in  com- 
pany with  my  father,  whose  gradually  declining 
health  necessitated  his  sojourn  in  some  tem- 
perate clime.  It  was  this  cause  which  first 
brought  us  to  the  Isle  of  Wight,  and  which 
also  induced  us  to  prolong  our  stay.  So,  as 
there  appeared  no  likelihood  of  our  immediate 
return  kto  my  own  loved  native  land,  I  had 
learned  to  identify  myself  completely  for  the 
time  being  with  the  inhabitants  of  the  neigh- 


176  A   PARISH   FESTIVAL. 

borhood  in  which  I  had  so  long  and  happily 
resided. 

The  history  of  my  own  life  is  in  nowise  cal- 
culated to  interest  my  readers ;  so  I  need  only 
inform  them  that  I  am  an  elderly  maiden  lady, 
and  that  at  the  period  of  which  I  write  we 
occupied  a  pretty  cottage,  all  covered  over 
with  trailing  wreaths  of  passion-flowers,  and  a 
profusion  of  white  and  crimson  roses,  which 
stood  beside  a  rippling  brooklet  on  the  con- 
fines of  H and  the  adjoining  inland  parish. 

Thus  much  for  myself.  I  will  now  return  to 
the  more  important  theme  that  is  to  form  the 
subject  of  my  tale. 

Very  early — by  six  o'clock  on  Monday  morn- 
ing— I  awoke  to  the  consciousness  that  the 
long-anticipated  day  had  come  at  last.  It  did 
not  find  me  installed  within  my  simple  cham- 
ber at  Hose  Cottage,  but  occupying  a  large 

and  pleasant  bedroom  at  the  Rectory  of  II- , 

where  I  had  been  on  a  fortnight's  visit  during 
the  temporary  absence  of  my  father.  I  rose, 
and  drawing  aside  the  curtains  looked  anxiously 
forth,  to  judge  if  the  weather  were  likely  to 
prove  favorable  to  our  wishes.  It  was  very 
cold  and  gray,  but  at  all  events  there  appeared 
no  prospect  of  a  storm,  and  with  this  assurance 
I  was  forced  to  be  content,  and  to  return  for 


A    PARISH    FESTIVAL.  177 

an  hour  to  bed,  less  for  the  sake  of  repose 
than  for  the  opportunity  which  would  be  thus 
afforded  me  of  pondering  at  leisure  the  various 
duties  that  I  should  be  required  to  fulfil. 

It  must  bo  owned  that  my  reflections  were 
not  entirely  agreeable,  for  I  had  most  unwisely 
allowed  myself  to  undertake  a  far  larger  share 
of  work  than  I  felt  at  all  capable  of  performing 
to  my  satisfaction.  This  is  an  error  into  which 
many  persons  are  liable  to  fall,  but  it  is  one 
which  all  should  conscientiously  endeavor  to 
avoid ;  for  although  it  is  certainly  incumbent 
on  us  not  to  permit  a  moment  of  our  time  to 
pass  by  unimproved,  yet  we  have  no  right  de- 
liberately to  burden  ourselves  with  an  amount 
of  labor  which  we  are  not  equal  to  the  task  of 
discharging  in  a  proper  manner. 

But  I  was  bound  by  a  voluntary  promise  to 
accomplish  every  thing  which  I  had  seen  fit  to 
mark  out  for  myself,  while  snugly  established 
in  an  arm-chair  by  the  fireside  on  the  preceding 
Saturday,  with  no  more  fatiguing  demand  upon 
my  powers  than  that  of  initiating  my  little 
favorite,  Lilly  Merton,  into  the  mysteries  of 
knitting.  My  friends,  whcx  were  already  over- 
whelmed with  business,  had  gratefully  availed 
themselves  of  my  proffered  services — to  disap- 
point them  was  impossible — so,  with  a  film  re- 


178  A    PARISH    FESTIVAL. 

Hance  on  the  truth  of  the  old  proverb,  "Wheie 
there  is  a  will,  there  is  a  way,"  I  set  about 
considering  the  conflicting  claims  on  my  atten- 
tion, and  the  means  by  which  they  could  be 
most  effectually  reconciled. 

First  of  all,  there  was  the  vase  of  flowers  to 
ornament  the  school-room  chimney-piece.  I 
believe  I  have  not  yet  told  you,  that  the  prin- 
cipal part  of  our  celebration  was  to  consist  of 
a  grand  dinner  provided  in  the  school-house 
for  more  than  a  hundred  of  the  parish  children. 
It  is  rather  strange  I  should  have  forgotten  to 
mention  it  till  now,  since  I  had  heard  little 
during  the  past  week  beyond  sundry  discus- 
sions relating  to  roast  beef  and  boiled  beef, 
plum-puddings  and  currant-bunns,  until  I  was 
at  length  inclined  to  fancy  that  the  quiet  vicar- 
age had  of  a  sudden  become  transformed  into 
a  huge  refectory,  founded  for  the  express  pur- 
pose of  supplying  these  national  dainties  to  the 
United  Kingdoms. 

But  I  am  wandering  widely  from  my  sub- 
ject. The  gathering  and  arranging  of  the  flow- 
ers was  the  smallest  part  of  my  allotted  duty, 
for  I  had  also  engaged  to  make  up  the  tea, 
designed  for  an  after-feast  to  the  old  women  of 
the  parish,  into  little  parcels,  and  to  visit  a 
sick  child  at  some  distance,  to  whom  kind  Mrs. 


A   PARISH   FESTIVAL.  179 

Merton  had  promised  a  portion  of  the  deli 
cacies  which  she  would  be  unable  to  enjoy  in 
common  with  her  young  companions.  Thus 
far  my  tasks  were  simple,  and  would  have 
occasioned  no  perplexity,  had  it  not  been  for  a 
circumstance  which  must  necessarily  lead  me 
in  a  totally  opposite  direction. 

On  the  evening  of  Saturday,  while  assem- 
bled in  the  study,  as  was  our  wont  at  that 
hour,  to  beguile  the  lingering  twilight  with 
the  charms  of  family  and  social  intercourse, 
we  were  startled  by  a  sudden  ringing  of  the 
hall  bell,  followed  by  the  entrance  of  an  unex- 
pected, but  most  welcome  guest. 

He  was  a  young  gentleman  from  Baltimore, 
the  son  of  a  clergyman  of  that  city,  with  whom 
Mr.  Merton  had  formed  an  intimate  acquaint- 
ance during  a  short  visit  which  he  had  made 
several  years  previously  to  America.  Young 
Mr.  Henry  "Weston  declared  himself  unable  to 

remain  longer  than  three  days  at  H ,  as  he 

was  desirous  of  making  a  hurried  tour  through 
England  before  proceeding  to  the  continent, 
where  he  purposed  taking  up  his  abode  for  the 
winter,  either  at  Rome  or  Florence,  with  a 
view  of  prosecuting  his  studies  as  a  painter, 
and  also  of  becoming  familiar  with  the  in- 
numerable gems  of  art  which  crowd  the  pal- 


180  A    PARISH    FESTIVAL. 

aces  and  galleries  of  classic  Italy.  Of  course, 
my  friends  were  particularly  anxious  to  intro- 
duce our  visitor  to  the  chief  scenes  of  attrac- 
tion in  their  native  isle.  Tuesday  was  imme- 
diately set  apart  for  an  excursion  to  the  Un- 
dercliff;  but  as  the  stranger's  stay  was  very 
limited,  it  was  important  not  to  lose  the  inter- 
vening time,  and  accordingly,  since  neither 
Mr.  Merton  nor  his  wife  could  conveniently 
be  absent  from  home  upon  the  morning  of  the 
fete,  I  volunteered  to  guide  my  young  com- 
patriot to  Carisbrooke — its  gray  old  church 
dating  from  the  Norman  conquest,  and  its  tall 
castled  rock,  which  overhangs  the  village  it  in 
other  days  defended.  Under  ordinary  circum- 
stances this  would  have  been  only  a  delight, 
for  I  dearly  loved  to  wander  amid  the  lovely 
scenery  by  which  this  pleasant  hamlet  is  sur- 
rounded ;  or,  stationed  on  the  ramparts  of  the 
castle,  to  look  down  upon  the  peaceful  church- 
yard, while  all  rude  sounds  were  hushed  to 
silence,  and  the  sweet,  mellowed  music  of  the 
chimes  alone  broke  in  upon  my  meditations : 
alas !  upon  this  occasion  there  would  be  no 
leisure  for  the  indulgence  of  that  contempla- 
tive mood  which  so  enhances  the  charm  of 
every  scene  of  beauty,  but  more  especially  of 
a  ruin ;  in  fact,  there  would  be  little  time  for 


A   PARISU   FESTIVAL.  1'81 

enjoyment  in  any  form,  for  we  were  all  tc 
meet  at  the  school-house  by  two,  therefore  it  is 
not  surprising  that  I  should  have  felt  somewhat 
disturbed,  on  pausing  to  review  the  varied  oc- 
cupations it  would  be  needful  to  compress  into 
a  few  short  hours. 

When  the  clock  struck  seven  I  began  to 
dress,  for  it  was  the.  custom  at  the  Kectory  to 
have  prayers  at  eight,  and  breakfast  imme- 
diately after.  Upon  the  conclusion  of  my  toi- 
lette, I  had  still  twenty  minutes  at  command ; 
so  wrapping  myself  in  a  thick  woollen  shawl, 
I  at  once  proceeded  to  the  garden.  The  season 
this  year  had  been  unusually  mild — the  turf, 
instead  of  wearing  the  brown  hue  of  winter, 
was  still  arrayed  in  its  bright  summer  robe  of 
emerald  green ;  and  although  the  trees  were 
leafless,  and  even  the  dahlias  and  chrysanthe- 
mums had  disappeared,  a  few  pale  autumn 
blossoms  lingered  on  the  sunny  flower  lawn, 
and  beneath  the  sheltering  hedge  of  "  var- 
nished holly." 

I  had  soon  collected  a  most  lovely  bouquet, 
consisting  of  the  snowy  laurestinus,  just  then 
in  all  its  prime,  the  periwinkle  and  the  Christ- 
mas rose,  intermingled  with  a  few  sprigs  of 
gorse,  whose  half-folded  petals,  of  the  palest 
yellow,  differed  so  widely  from  its  former  gold- 
16 


182  A   PAEISH   FESTIVAL. 

en  glory :  these,  together  with  a  variety  of 
greens,  were  disposed  in  a  china  vase,  and  then 
I  entered  the  dining-room  with  a  lighter  heart, 
from  the  consciousness  that  something,  how- 
ever slight,  had  been  effected. 

During  breakfast  we  engaged  in  a  general 
discussion  of  our  plans  for  the  coming  day. 
There  was  to  be  luncheon  at  quarter  past  one 
• — so  Mrs.  Merton  told  us — and  she  hoped  that 
we  would  all  be  punctual,  as  we  must  allow 
ourselves  sufficient  leisure  for  superintending 
operations  at  the  school-house  before  the  chil- 
dren should  arrive.  We  all  promised  obedience 
to  her  injunction,  and  hastily  finishing  my  cup 
of  coffee,  I  made  an  apology  for  leaving  the 
table  before  the  remainder  of  the  party  had 
finished  their  repast.  My  first  care  was  to  di- 
vide the  tea,  designed  for  the  old  ladies,  into 
separate  parcels,  each  one  containing  an  ample 
allowance  for  five  persons.  As  there  were  just 
forty  expected  to  be  present,  precisely  eight 
portions  were  required,  and  this  done  I  depos- 
ited the  little  packages  in  a  basket,  together 
with  a  corresponding  amount  of  nice  loaf-su- 
gar ;  and  having  received  from  Mrs.  Merton 
an  assurance  that  the  carriage  should  be  in 
readiness  before  eleven,  I  set  out  upon  my  "visit 
to  poor  Susie  Elwood's  cottage. 


A   PARISH    FESTIVAL.  183 

This  humble  home — alike  the  abode  of  pov- 
erty and  Christian  worth — was  situated  in  one 
of  the  most  remote  and  secluded  districts  of  the 
parish.  It  stood  close  beside  a  by-road,  which 
was  comparatively  seldom  travelled  ;  and  the 
few  scattered  houses  that  composed  the  tiny 
settlement  were  all  of  the  same  unpretending 
character  as  the  one  which  Dame  Elwood  oc- 
cupied. There  was  a  little  strip  of  garden- 
ground  attached  to  each,  which — being  for  the 
most  part  gay  with  the  commoner  sorts  of  Eng- 
lish flowers  in  summer,  and  adorned  even  in 
winter  with  the  crimson  monthly-rose,  and  the 
scarlet  berries  of  the  holly — imparted  at  all 
seasons  a  "  cheery"  aspect  to  the  place.  The 
surroundings  were  of  a  truly  rural  character, 
with  no  touch  of  the  sublime — nothing  to  be 
seen  beyond  a  softly  swelling  pasture-land,  va- 
ried by  many  a  field  of  waving  grain,  with 
here  and  there  a  substantial  looking  farm-house, 
half  hid  by  its  goodly  barns  and  hay-stacks, 
and  a  far-off  glimpse  of  the  blue,  glittering  sea. 

Great  as  was  the  compassion  I  felt  for  Susie 
Elwood,  I  could  never  fail  to  compare  these 
tranquil  scenes,  on  which  she  gazed  daily  from 
her  narrow  casement,  with  the  foul  and  dingy 
alleys  of  the  crowded  town,  wherein  so  many 
languish,  victims  of  a  maladv  as  fatal  as  was 


184.  A    TAKISH    FESTIVAL. 

hers,  but  with  none  of  the  alleviations  by 
which  her  lingering  illness  had  been  solaced. 

Upon  knocking  lightly  at  the  cottage  door, 
a  faint  voice  called  to  me  to  enter.  I  recog- 
nized the  tone  as  Susie's  ;  and  as  there  was  no 
one  in  the  kitchen  except  my  old  acquaintance, 
pussy,  who  was  basking  most  luxuriously  upon 
the  hearth,  I  at  once  mounted  the  short  flight 
of  steps  leading  to  the  chamber  overhead.  The 
sweet  child  was  lying,  as  I  invariably  found 
her,  on  the  lowly  couch  to  which  she  had  for  a 
weary  lapse  of  time  been  constantly  confined ; 
while  her  delicate  features,  rendered  thin  and 
sharp  by  illness,  wore  an  air  of  natural  sorrow 
for  the  infirmity  which  was  her  appointed  lot, 
combined  with  the  more  exalted  sentiment  of 
resignation  to  God's  unerring  will. 

I  have  never  beheld  a  countenance  more  ex- 
quisitely lovely ;  but  it  was  bright  with  that 
mysterious  beauty  which,  with  the  young  and 
innocent,  is  frequently  the  harbinger  of  death  ; 
"  the  signet-ring  of  heaven,"  as  one  of  our  own 
poets  has  feelingly  expressed  it.  She  seemed 
extremely  fragile.  Her  soft,  dark  eyes  spark- 
ling with  such  unnatural  lustre ;  the  clear 
whiteness  of  her  cheek,  just  tinged  with  pink ; 
above  all,  that  quick  and  labored  breathing, 
60  unspeakably  painful  to  the  beholder,  all 


A    PAKI8H    FESTIVAL.  185 

plainly  showed  that  she  was  close  upon  the 
borders  of  the  land  of  promise. 

Susie's  mother,  who  was  also  her  indefati- 
gable nurse,  chanced  to  be  absent  at  that  mo- 
ment upon  some  necessary  errand ;  so  I  seated 
myself  beside  the  bed,  and  entered  into  con- 
versation with  its  gentle  occupant. 

"This  is,  you  know,  the  Princess  Royal's 
marriage-day,"  I  observed,  after  having  asked 
the  usual  questions  relating  to  the  invalid's 
own  health. 

"  Yes ;  and  it  is  my  birth-day,  too,"  the  child 
answered  with  a  smile.  "I  have  just  com- 
pleted my  thirteenth  year." 

"  It  is  very  sad  to  see  you  lying  here  so  weak 
and  suffering,"  I  continued ;  "  do  you  not  feel 
it  to  be  a  heavy  trial  ?" 

"  Yes,  veiy  heavy  often,"  she  replied ;  "  but 
now —  '  the  sentence  remained  unconcluded, 
for  it  was  very  rarely  that  she  ventured  to 
converse  upon  her  private  feelings ;  but  I  did 
not  need  to  be  informed  of  the  thoughts  which 
were  passing  in  her  heart,  and  as  I  reverently 
bent  to  kiss  the  wan  and  fevered  brow,  and 
held  one  small,  transparent  hand  within  my 
own,  while  the  other  tightly  clasped  a  well- 
worn  Bible,  I  was  conscious  of  a  thrilling  sense 
of  awe,  as  for  the  first  time  I  fully  compre- 


186  A   PARISH   FESTIVAL. 

hended  how  soon  the  glories  of  the  unseen 
world  would  be  revealed  to  that  little  child's 
enraptured  sight. 

I  could  have  lingered  for  hours  in  that 
modest  attic ;  so  neat,  and  yet  so  simple,  with 
its  clean,  though  coarse  white  counterpane  and 
pillow-cases,  and  the  wine-glass,  bearing  its 
single  fragrant  rose-bud,  which  stood  upon  the 
sill.  It  was  always  a  trial  to  leave  this  calm 
retreat,  where  no  unhallowed  breath  of  worldly 
care  seemed  to  intrude,  and  I  generally  re- 
mained as  long  as  the  strength  of  the  dying 
girl  would  permit  her  to  bear  the  presence  of  a 
visitor.  In  this  instance,  however,  I  was  com- 
pelled to  hasten  my  departure,  therefore  I  bade 
my  little  friend  farewell ;  and  having  informed 
her  what  were  the  contents  of  the  basket  which 
had  been  sent  to  her  by  Mrs.  Merton,  and  ex- 
pressed a  hope  that  Dame  Elwood  might  be 
able  to  join  the  school-house  party  in  the  even- 
ing, I  made  the  best  of  my  way  back  to  H , 

where  I  arrived  precisely  as  the  hall  clock 
struck  eleven.  Mrs.  Weston  and  little  Lilly 
Merton  were  waiting  for  me  in  the  drawing- 
room  ;  so  we  lost  no  time  in  seating  ourselves 
in  the  pony-chaise,  and  driving  off  at  a  brisk 
pace  towards  Carisbrooke. 

Passing   by  all  other  objects  of  attention, 


A    PARISH   FESTIVAL.  187 

we  went  directly  to  the  old  castle,  one  of  the 
most  picturesque  remains  of  by-gone  ages  to 
be  found  in  England,  and  interesting  alike 
from  its  romantic  beauty,  and  from  the  memo- 
rable historic  associations  which  throng  around 
its  name.  Our  visit  there  was,  of  necessity,  a 
hurried  one,  and  the  season  of  the  year  was 
unfortunately  not  the  most  favorable  that  could 
have  been  selected  by  a  tourist ;  but,  despite 
these  disadvantages,  the  delight  of  the  young 
stranger  knew  no  bounds. 

A  high,  cold  wind  rendered  it  unsafe  to 
ascend  the  ramparts ;  so  we  consoled  ourselves, 
for  this  disappointment,  by  climbing  the  steep, 
time-worn  steps  that  lead  to  the  old  Saxon 
keep,  and  enjoying  the  extended  view  which 
this  most  elevated  point  commands ;  after 
which  we  visited  the  well  that  had  in  former 
days  supplied  the  garrison  with  water,  and 
thence  proceeded  to  inspect  a  small  concealed 
chapel,  which  had  been  recently  discovered  in 
the  thickness  of  the  walls.  Last  of  all,  we 
paused  beneath  the  window  by  which  the 
martyr-king  of  England,  Charles  the  First, 
who  was  for  some  time  confined  within  this 
stronghold,  endeavored  to  escape  from  his  im- 
prisonment; and  having  lingered  to  call  up 
the  images  this  spot  suggested,  and  descanted 


188  A   PARISH    FESTIVAL. 

with  a  mournful  pleasure  upon  his  melancholy 
and  yet  glorious  end,  we  retraced  our  steps 
towards  the  spacious  court,  whence  we  set 
about  exploring  every  nook  and  corner  of  the 
hoary  pile. 

Truly  this  proved,  as  I  had  feared,  a  work 
of  time ;  and  I  began  at  length  quite  to  despair 
of  Mr.  Henry,  for  lie  seemed  never  weary  of 
wandering  amid  the  grass-grown  halls,  and 
gazing  upon  the  ivy-mantled  towers  and 
crumbling  battlements ;  but  it  was  the  young 
artist's  first  experience  of  a  ruin,  so  I  felt 
bound  to  overlook  any  little  want  of  consider- 
ation, which  might  have  annoyed  me  under 
different  circumstances. 

"It  was  here  that  the  Princess  Elizabeth 
once  dwelt,"  remarked  my  darling  Lilly,  who 
had  always  evinced  a  special  affection  for  the 
memory  of  her  royal  namesake,  \vhose  sad 
captivity  within  these  walls  was  terminated  by 
an  early  death. 

"Yes;  and  that  just  reminds  me  that  I  am 
peculiarly  desirous  of  seeing  her  effigy  in  the 
church  at  Newport,"  observed  Mr.  Weston, 
suddenly  awaking  from  the  day-dream  in 
which  he  had  been  lost. 

"It  will  be  very  easy  to  gratify  your  wish, 
and  I  am  sure  you  will  be  well  repaid,"  I  an- 


A   PARISH   FESTIVAL.  189 

swered,  feeling  secretly  rejoiced  to  lure  my 
young  charge  away  from  Carisbrooke  on  any 
terms ;  "  only,  in  that  case,  we  really  must  not 
stay  here  longer ;  and,  I  fear  too,  that  we  shall 
be  obliged  to  content  ourselves  with  a  distant 
prospect  of  the  village,  for  the  chimes  are 
playing  even  now,  and  we  shall  have  barely 
ten  minutes  to  inspect  the  monument." 

Mr.  "Weston  declared  his  willingness  to  de- 
part at  once ;  and,  resuming  our  places  in  the 
chaise,  we  took  the  nearest  road  to  Newport. 
This  is  a  pleasant  little  country  town,  and  we 
could  readily  have  beguiled  an  hour  in  its 
quaint,  narrow  thoroughfares  had  time  per- 
mitted. As  it  was,  we  preferred  devoting  the 
whole  of  our  scanty  leisure  to  the  church ;  and 
only  waiting  to  procure  a  guide,  we  passed 
into  the  sacred  temple. 

This  edifice,  which  is  of  considerable  an- 
tiquity, has  of  late  been  completely  restored 
and  modernized.  The  ashes  of  the  youthful 
princess  repose  within  the  "  Chancel  Shade," 
and  ere  long  we  were  standing  beside  her  re- 
cumbent image.  Often  as  I  had  previously 
contemplated  this  perfect  work  of  art,  the  sight 
was  one  which  never  failed  to  inspire  me  with 
a  renewed  sense  of  pleasure.  One  single  ray 
of  pallid  sunshine,  which  struggled  through  the 


190  A   PARISH   FESTIVAL. 

window,  fell  full  upon  the  lovely  face,  reveal- 
ing the  exquisite  symmetry  of  the  delicately 
moulded  features,  and  the  purity  and  sweet- 
ness of  the  expression  which  beamed  upon  the 
brow. 

There  is  something  irresistibly  touching  in 
the  attitude,  at  once  so  calm,  and  yet  so  full  of 
grace.  She  is  represented  precisely  as  she  was 
discovered  by  an  attendant,  after  life  had  be- 
come extinct,  reclining  at  full  length,  with 
her  head  resting  upon  a  Bible,  open  at  the 
beautiful  passage — "  Come  unto  me  all  ye  that 
travail  and  are  heavy  laden,  and  I  will  give 
you  rest ;"  while  her  long  flowing  ringlets 
stream  over  the  holy  page. 

"  How  fearful  must  have  been  the  scenes  of 
strife  and  bloodshed  by  which  that  pure  and 
gentle  spirit  was  encompassed!"  observed  the 
young  artist  in  a  whisper.  "  And  yet,"  he 
continued,  "in  her  child-like  innocence  and 
truth,  she  was  a  worthy  daughter  of  the 
martyr-king,  to  whom  she  owed  her  birth." 

"And  think  how  blessed  her  release,"  I 
added,  as  I  gazed  upon  the  slumbering  form. 
"  How  often  throughout  her  brief  and  troubled 
warfare  has  she  doubtless  experienced  the  con- 
solatory nature  of  those  precious  promises 
which  soothed  her  in  the  hour  of  death." 


A   PARISH   FESTIVAL.  191 

"Her  Majesty  is  about  to  have  a  stained- 
glass  window  placed  above  the  monument,  in 
order  to  soften  the  broad  glare  of  light,"  began 
our  guide,  breaking  in^with  a  loud  voice  upon 
the  hallowed  stillness. 

We  were  all  of  us  painfully  -impressed  by 
the  irreverence  that  could  thus  dispel  the 
charm  which  breathed  throughout  the  conse- 
crated fane.  Perhaps  our  silent  and  subdued 
demeanor  may  have  shown  the  well-meaning, 
but  thoughtless  woman,  how  much  we  disap- 
proved of  any  violation  of  that  sanctity  which 
must  at  all  times  pervade  the  Temple  of  the 
Most  High,  for  her  manner  changed,  and  we 
were  left  to  uninterrupted  meditation,  until 
the  moment  of  departure  had  arrived.  Turn- 
ing back  for  one  last  look,  as  we  were  about  to 
quit  the  chancel,  I  was  for  the  first  time  struck 
by  a  resemblance,  either  fancied  or  real,  be- 
tween this  high-born  descendant  of  a  royal 
race  and  the  humble  cottage  maid,  beside 
whose  couch  of  sickness  I  had  that  morning 
stood.  Different,  indeed,  their  stations  here 
on  earth,  although  suffering  and  sorrow  had 
been  the  lot  of  both;  but  in  the  smile  of 
heavenly  peace  which  beamed  upon  each 
placid  countenance,  I  recognized  them  as  alike 
the  children  of  the  King  of  kings,  and  joint- 


192  A   PARISH   FESTIVAL. 

heirs  of  that  bright  inheritance  which  was  tc 
be  their  blessed  and  eternal  portion. 

Luncheon  was,  as  I  had  expected,  nearly 
over  when  we  reached  the  rectory ;  but  after 
our  pleasant  expedition,  we  were  not  disposed 
to  complain  of  any  minor  inconvenience,  and 
only  allowing  ourselves  time  for  a  very  slight 
refreshment,  we  all  proceeded  to  the  school- 
house.  A  short  stroll  brought  us  to  the  mod- 
est red-brick  edifice,  which  was  charmingly 
situated  in  the  midst  of  a  gently  undulating 
country,  commanding  a  delightful  prospect  of 
the  distant  hills.  Although  it  was  not  near  the 
hour  appointed  for  the  children  to  assemble, 
several  groups  were  already  scattered  through 
the  play-ground,  not,  as  in  general,  occupied 
with  the  swings,  the  see-saws,  the  climbing- 
poles,  and  j umping-bars,  and  all  the  other  con- 
trivances which  their  kind  Hector  had  caused 
to  be  provided  for  their  healthful  recreation, 
but  conversing  in  low  tones  among  themselves, 
and  impatiently,  as  it  appeared,  counting  the 
minutes  which  must  yet  elapse  before  the  time 
of  their  anticipated  treat. 

Cordially  responding  to  their  salutations, 
we  went  on  to  the  house,  closing  the  door  in- 
exorably .behind  us,  and  leaving  the  poor 
children  in  the  cold  outer  air  to  sigh  for  the 


A    PARISH    FJJSTIVAL.  193 

long  wished-for  moment  of  admission.  Within, 
a  bright  fire  was  blazing  in  the  ample  grate, 
and  the  walls  were  beautifully  adorned  with 
evergreens,  which  also  hung  in  thick  garlands 
from  the  ceiling ;  the  frames  of  the  few  colored 
prints  were  twined  with  wreaths  of  rosemary 
and  myrtle ;  upon  the  chimney-piece  were 
placed  the  sweet  flowers,  which  I  had  arranged 
with  so  much  care  ;  while  above  the  entrance, 
the  word  "  WKLCOME"  might  be  seen,  formed 
from  the  vivid  scarlet  berries  of  the  holly,  and 
surmounted  by  a  canopy  of  dark,  shining 
leaves.  It  gleamed  like  a  parting  smile  from 
the  fast-waning  star  of  Christmas,  and  our 
hearts  wanned  at  sight  of  the  familiar  em- 
blems of  that  hallowed  season. 

After  we  had  sufficiently  admired  these 
tasteful  decorations — the  fruit  of  some  skill 
and  perseverance  on  the  part  of  Mr.  Merton's 
only  son  and  a  number  of  his  companions — 
we  all  diligently  betook  ourselves  to  the  task 
before  us.  Mr.  Weston  joined  heartily  in  the 
"  fun,"  as  he  expressed  it ;  and  by  his  ready  in- 
genuity in  devising  schemes  and  obviating  diffi- 
culties, proved  himself  an  equally  willing  and 
efficient  aid.  Six  young  girls,  who  had  formerly 
been  scholars,  had  volunteered  their  services  in 
any  branch,  of  work  which  might  be  requisite. 

17 


194:  A    PARISH    FESTIVAL. 

Accordingly  we  all  in  common  commenced 
operations,  by  dragging  the  long,  heavy  table 
into  the  centre  of  the  room  ;  and  having  placed 
a  smaller  one  at  either  end,  together  with  seve- 
ral little  stands  in  different  corners,  we  spread 
a  snow-white  covering  over  all,  and  then  draw- 
ing the  rows  of  benches  alongside,  we  laid  a 
fresh,  round  roll  before  each  seat.  Next  came 
the  more  perplexing  business  of  sorting  over 
and  endeavoring  to  classify  the  rather  motley 
collection  of  plates  and  goblets  which  each 
family  had  been  requested  to  provide  for  its 
own  members. 

Notwithstanding  these  deficiencies,  all  wore 
an  inviting  aspect  when  our  preparations  were 
complete ;  and  as  we  had  ere  this  been  joined 
by  a  number  of  the  neighboring  gentry,  and 
the  play -ground  was  quite  crowded  with  ex- 
pectant youth,  whom  the  schoolmaster  had 
marshalled  into  a  precession,  the  doors  were 
at  length  flung  back  upon  their  hinges,  and 
the  children  entered  two  by  two,  singing  a 
pretty  song  as  they  advanced.  All  were  ar- 
rayed with  neatness,  yet  with  extreme  sim- 
plicity— the  boys  with  hair  smoothly  brushed 
and  clean  white  linen  collars ;  the  girls  in 
high-necked  frocks  of  dark  checked  print. 
Happiness  sparkled  upon  every  face,  and  I 


A   PARISH   FESTIVAL.  195 

saw  that  they  could  scarcely  restrain  a  more 
noisy  demonstration  of  their  merriment. 

There  was  some  bustle  attendant  upon  the 
business  of  selecting  places ;  and  when  this 
had  in  a  degree  subsided,  the  Kector  arose  and 
requested  silence ;  then  the  parish  clerk,  who 
was  present  with  an  instrument  of  music,  be- 
gan a  sacred  air,  and  all  standing  up,  a  simple 
grace  was  chanted,  after  which  the  little  guests 
resumed  their  seats,  and  we  elders  set  about 
distributing  the  viands. 

There  was  no  lack  of  occupation  for  any  of 
the  party.  Mr.  Weston  at  once  took  possession 
of  a  huge  joint  of  beef,  which  he  was  soon 
employed  in  carving ;  Mr.  Merton,  who  had 
stationed  himself  at  another  table,  was  simi- 
larly engaged;  while  his  two  sweet  children 
were  happy  in  being  bearers  of  the  good  fare 
which  had  been  so  bountifully  provided. 
Some  of  the  spectators  were  busied  in  serving 
out  portions  of  turnips  and  potatoes,  and  others 
in  kindly  coming  to  the  assistance  of  the  very 
youngest,  who  were  unable  to  manage  the 
dainty  cheer  until  it  had  been  cut  up  into  tiny 
morsels.  One  young  lady,  who  had  arrived 
very  late,  and  chanced  to  find  no  work  ready 
at  that  moment  to  her  hand,  was  attempting 
to  count  the  number  of  the  children,  but  with- 


196  A    PAltlSH    FESTIVAL. 

out  success,  since  the  constant  motion  winch 
was  going  on  around  confused  her  perception 
of  even  stationary  objects.  I  could  easily  have 
told  her  what  she  desired  to  know,  and  so  have 
saved  her  from  all  further  trouble ;  but  as  she 
merely  seemed  amused  by  her  frequent  failures, 
I  forbore,  and  soon  the  necessity  of  replenishing 
the  children's  plates  diverted  her  attention  from 
the  subject,  and  I  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing 
Alice  Meredith,  as  active  as  even  her  own  wish 
could  dictate. 

"When  all  had  concluded  the  more  substan- 
tial part  of  the  repast,  Mrs.  Merton  called  aloud 
for  the  plum-puddings,  and  ere  long  they  were 
brought  in,  smoking  hot,  each  one  decorated 
with  a  sprig  of  holly.  This  second  course 
afforded  even  more  satisfaction  than  its  prede- 
cessor ;  and  when  an  abundant  portion  had 
been  served  to  all,  Mr.  Merton  delivered  a 
simple,  but  very  beautiful  address,  in  which 
he  explained  the  nature  of  the  event  that  we 
were  met  to  celebrate.  Having  given  a  slight 
sketch  of  their  history,  he  proposed  the  health 
of  the  Prince  and  Princess,  whereupon  he  was 
answered  by  a  universal  outburst  of  applause  ; 
and  I  doubt  much  if  the  happiness  of  the  Royal 
Lady  was  on  that  day  more  sincerely  pledged 
in  the  red  wine  of  the  costly  banquet,  than  in 


A    PARISH    FESTIVAL.  197 

those  modest  cans  of  nut-brown  ale,  a  very 
small  allowance  of  winch  had  been  furnished 
for  each  one  of  these  loyal  little  subjects,  in 
•honor  of  the  occasion.  Then  followed  the 
sublime  and  soul-stirring  anthem  of  Old  Eng- 
land, in  whose  strains,  at  once  so  inspiring  and 
so  solemn,  we  all  united  with  true  and  un- 
affected earnestness.  Mr.  "Weston,  who  never 
remembered  having  heard  the  hynin  before, 
was  completely  overpowered  by  enthusiasm ; 
and  at  the  words — 

"  God  bless  our  native  land  ! 
May  Heaven's  protecting  hand 
Still  guard  our  shore!" 

I  am  sure  no  English  voice  was  more  distinctly 
audible  than  his. 

When  the  last  thundering  peal  of  "  God  save 
the  Queen !"  had  died  quite  away,  there  ensued 
a  second  speech  from  Mr.  Merton,  in  which  he 
alluded  to  the  kindness  of  those  friends  to 
whom  the  children  were  indebted  for  that 
day's  amusement,  as  well  as  for  the  blessings 
of  education,  and  various  other  privileges 
which  they  enjoyed.  He  spoke,  too,  of  there 
being  so  many  in  the  parish  who  loved  them, 
and  took  a  sincere  and  affectionate  interest  alike 

in  their  temporal  and  their  eternal  welfare. 
170 


198  A   PARISH    FESTIVAL. 

I  hqpe  that  some  among  the  listeners  were 
moved  with  a  real  desire  to  become  daily  more 
deserving  of  the  benefits  which  God  had  so 
freely  bestowed  upon  them  :  certain  it  is,  that 
many  eyes  were  bright  with  tears  at  the  close 
of  their  beloved  Rector's  exhortation. 

But  now  the  hour  was  waxing  late ;  and  the 
poor  children's  festival,  that  event  to  which 
they  had  so  long  and  eagerly  looked  forward, 
was  at  an  end.  Short-lived,  indeed,  are  all 
the  pleasures  of  this  lower  world ;  but  this 
thought  should  only  inflame  us  with  more  ar- 
dent zeal  in  pressing  onward  towards  the  at- 
tainment of  those  joys,  which  are  unchange- 
able as  He  from  whom  they  spring.  After 
having  joined  in  a  familiar  hymn,  the  little 
ones  dispersed.  I  watched  them  from  the 
window  for  a  moment,  as  they  pursued  their 
sportive  gambols  on  the  green ;  and  then  turned 
to  bear  a  part  in  the  arrangements  for  our  tea- 
party,  which  were  j  ust  commencing. 

The  six  attendants  had  been  dismissed  into 
the  inner  school-room,  in  order  to  be  feasted 
jn  their  turn,  so  that  we  were  obliged  to  set  to 
work  without  them.  One  of  the  gentlemen 
had  already  replenished  the  fire  and  swept  up 
the  hearth;  while  we  ladies  employed  our- 
selves in  clearing  away  the  remnants  of  the 


A    PAKISH    FESTIVAL.  199 

dinner,  laying  aside  the  table-coverings,  and 
striving  by  every  means  in  our  power  to  make 
the  room  appear  as  neat  and  comfortable  as 
possible.  Having  placed  a  monster  .kettle  of 
water  on  the  hob  to  boil,  and  also  arranged 
the  cups  and  saucers  on  the  table,  we  next 
paid  our  respects  to  a  large  chest,  containing  a 
goodly  stock  of  tempting  bunns,  which  the 
baker  had  been  ordered  to  supply  for  the 
evening.  Sundry  piled-up  dishes  were  de- 
posited upon  the  board  ;  and  then  seating  our- 
selves on  a  bench  before  the  fire,  we  waited 
the  arrival  of  our  expected  guests. 

It  was  not  long  before  they  came  ;  at  firsfc, 
in  straggling  groups  of  two  and  three,  and 
then  in  larger  numbers,  until  the  room  was 
filled  with  smiling  matrons,  all  evidently  pre- 
pared .to  enjoy  the  social  meal  to  which  they 
had  been  bidden.  Dame  Elwood  was  among 
the  last  who  entered.  I  went  forward  to  wel- 
come her;  and  while  engaged  in  taking  off 
her  cloak  and  hood,  I  remarked  that  we  had 
scarcely  imagined  she  would  be  able  to  leave 
home  on  account  of  Susie. 

"I  did  not  think  of  it  myself,"  she  an- 
swered; "but  the  dear  child  was  so  entreat- 
ing-like,  and  said  so  often  how  pleased  she 
would  be  to  hear  my  account  of  these  grand 


200  A    PARISH    FESTIVAL. 

doings,  that  at  last  I  had  to  come  away  to 
pacify  her." 

"  I  am  sure  you  must  need  the  relaxation," 
I  observed  ;  "  and  I  can  also  understand  quite 
well  the  amusement  which  poor  Susie  will 
derive  to-morrow  from  all  that  you  will  haA'e 
to  tell  her.  Of  course,  she  is  not  in  the  mean 
time  left  entirely  alone  ?" 

"  Oh !  no,  ma'am  ;  Lizzie  Gray  came  in  at 
dusk  to  say  that  she  would  gladly  stay  with 

Susie,  if  I  wished  to  come  to  li .  It  was 

this  decided  me,  for  Lizzie  is  the  nicest  girl  in 
the  whole  parish,  and  I  felt  sure  she  would 
take  the  greatest  care  of  my  poor  child." 

"  Yes,  one  may  trust  Lizzie  Gray  with  per- 
fect confidence,"  I  replied ;  "  and  I  doubt  not 
her  society  will  be  of  benefit  to  Susie." 

"  They  were  talking  over  the  school-dinner 
•when  I  left,"  rejoined  the  mother;  "and  I 
should  not  be  surprised  if  some  of  the  other 
girls  were  to  call  at  our  cottage  by-and-by,  for 
Susie  wras  always  good  and  gentle  to  her  play- 
mates, and  they  all  love  her  more  than  ever 
now." 

Our  conversation  was  at  this  point  broken 
off  by  Mrs.  Merton,  who,  after  kindly  greeting 
good  Dame  Elwood,  presented  her  with  one 
of  the  little  packages  of  tea,  I  have  already 


A   PARISH   FESTIVAL.  201 

mentioned,  and  requested  that  she  would  pre 
side  over  the  entertainment  of  her  own  especial 
friends.  The  dear  old  lady  appeared  to  be  a 
general  centre  of  attraction  ;  and  I  was  rather 
curious  to  see  how  she  would  contrive  to 
choose,  from  among  so  many  claimants  on  her 
favor,  without  giving  offence  to  any. 

But  harmony  was  evidently  the  watchword 
of  that  humble  company.  Instinctively  the 
aged  matrons  seemed  to"  divide  themselves  into 
just  such  parties  as  were  most  congenial  to 
each  other;  and  soon  all  were  cosily  estab- 
lished at  different  points  of  the  long  table, 
each  distinct  band  being  clustered  around  a 
pewter  teapot,  which  shone  bright  as  silver, 
sipping  the  fragrant  beverage,  and  extolling 
the  excellence  of  the  currant-bunns ;  while,  by 
degrees,  any  little  feeling  of  constraint  wore 
off,  and  the  hum  of  cheerful  voices  gave  token 
of  their  quiet  happiness. 

Since  matters  were  going  on  so  smoothly, 
we  all  felt  convinced  that  the  most  acceptable 
act  of  kindness  which  we  could  render  to  our 
guests,  would  be  to  leave  them  to  their  own 
enjoyment ;  therefore,  when  grace  had  been 
pronounced,  we  withdrew  to  the  other  end  of 
the  apartment,  only  taking  care,  at  intervals, 
to  ascertain  that  the  provision  of  bunns  was  not 


202  A   PARISH   FESTIVAL. 

exhausted,  and  that  a  sufficient  quantity  of 
boiling  water  was  kept  standing  upon  the  fire 
in  readiness  for  use. 

The  genial  influences  of  tea  and  conversation 
seemed  to  expand  all  hearts ;  and  Mr.  Merton, 
perceiving  that  the  moment  was  opportune, 
stood  up,  before  his  parishioners  had  left  the 
table,  and,  in  a  few  words,  spoke  of  the  rapid 
progress  of  their  dear  children,  both  in  intel- 
lectual improvement,  and  in  those  infinitely 
higher  and  more  important  lessons,  which,  he 
most  earnestly  trusted,  they  would  not  fail  to 
unite  with  him  in  striving  to  enforce.  He 
concluded  by  saying,  how  great  was  the  pleas- 
ure which  that  day's  festivities  had  afforded 
him ;  and  that  he  hoped  we  might  none  of  us 
forget,  that  every  harmless  relaxation  from  the 
toils  of  life  is  provided  for  us  by  a  gracious 
God,  in  order  that  we  may  become  thereby 
more  fitted  for  active  labor  in  His  service. 

Sacred  music  follo'vyed,  without  intermission, 
until  the  brightening  moonbeams,  which  glim- 
mered amid  the  interwoven  boughs  of  ever- 
greens, warned  us  that  it  was  time  to  separate. 
A  short  prayer  was  offered  up  by  Mr.  Merton ; 
and  then  the  assembly  dispersed  among  the 
quiet  lanes  and  by-roads  that  led  to  the  many 
scattered  hamlets  which  composed  the  large, 


A   PARISH   FESTIVAL.  203 

but  thinly  settled  parish  of  H .  "We  re- 
mained behind  for  a  few  moments  to  set  all  to 
rights ;  and  then  returned  to  the  sweet  rectory, 
where  a  cheering  fire  and  a  well-laden  supper- 
board  smiled  a  welcome,  which  we  were  quite 
able  to  appreciate.  Some  glorious  strains  from 
Mozart  closed  the  evening,  for  we  were  too 
much  wearied  by  our  unusual  exertions  to 
feel  much  inclined  for  social  converse.  By  ten 
o'clock  we  retired  to  our  pillows,  reflecting, 
with  great  satisfaction,  upon  the  success  which 
had  crowned  this,  the  first  entertainment  of 

the  sort  that  had  ever  taken  place  at  H ; 

and  praying  that  the  heart  of  the  young  Prin- 
cess might  ever  be  as  light,  her  happiness  as 
pure  and  free  from  guile,  as  were  those  of  her 
lowly  countrymen,  who  had  that  day  partici- 
pated in  our  Parish  Festival. 


THE    END. 


LIVES     OF     Till]     BISHOPS. 

BY  THE  KEV.  JOHN  N.  NOETON,  A.  M., 
Rector  of  the  Chwch  of  the  Ascension,  Frankfort,  Kentucky. 

We  have  just  received  two  more  of  these  charming  and 
model  biographies.  Bishop  Dehon,  of  South  Carolina, 
and  Bishop  Gadsden,  of  the  same  diocese,  are  the  subject* 
of  these  two  volumes.  It  is  very  high  praise  to  say 
that  Mr.  Norton  has  elaborated  these  volumes  with  even 
more  care  than  either  of  the  preceding,  and  that  the  re- 
sult is  a  more  finished  and  delightful  composition.  We 
have  called  this  entire  series,  so  far  as  it  has  gone,  model 
biographies,  and  we  hope  that  they  will  become  such. 
They  are  just  such  graphic  and  faithful  portraitures  of 
distinguished  men  as,  in  all  but  a  very  few  exceptional 
cases,  should  supersede  the  heavv  octavos,  sometimes  of 
several  volumes,  that  are  customarily  devoted  to  a  single 
life.  As  this  author  has  well  said,  "Such  a  multitude 
of  good  and  useful  men  have  lived  and  labored  in  the 
world,  that  we  can  not  well  afford  the  time  to  read  long 
biographies  of  them  all."  The  peculiar  merit  of  Mr. 
Norton  in  this  series  is,  that  he  not  only  presents  us  with 
all  the  facts  that  are  worthy  of  record  in  a  very  brief 
space,  but  so  clothes  those  facts,  in  that  marvellously 
brief  narrative,  with  all  their  circumstances  and  associa- 
tions, as  to  give  the  most  lively  and  interesting  picture 
of  the  man,  his  work,  and  his  times. 

The  life  of  Bishop  Gadsden  contains  a  touching  notice 
of  the  late  Rev.  John  B.  Gallagher,  who  was  some  time  a 
presbyter  in  South  Carolina.  The  people  of  Louisville 
will  long  remember  with  affection  and  gratitude  the  man 
whose  soundness  in  the  faith,  and  exemplary  life,  and 
lovely  character,  so  illustrated  and  advanced  fcne  cause  of 
virtue  and  religion  in  our  city. — Louisv&Ze  Jjurr<al. 
24 


BY  MRS.  JENNY  MARSH  PARKER. 


THH  BOY  MISSIONARY  is  one  of  the  best  things  the 
Church  Book  Society  has  given  us  in  a  long  while.  The 
idea  is,  to  show  how  a  poor  little  boy — weak,  sickly,  and 
not  able  to  study  much — may  have  the  spirit  of  a  mis- 
sionary, and  may,  among  his  fellows,  do  the  work  of  a 
missionary,  too,  even  in  boyhood  ;  while  others,  of  more 
brilliant  parts  and  more  commanding  social  position,  look 
forward  to  missionary  life  as  something  future  and  far 
distant,  and  find  their  days  brought  to  an  end  before 
their  work  is  even  begun.  The  authoress,  Jenny  Marsh 
Parker,  shows  no  small  knowledge  of  boy  nature,  and 
the  temptations  incident  to  the  life  of  boys  in  a  country 
village.  Davie  Hall  will  make  many  missionaries,  both 
for  the  Far  West  and  for  home. — Church  Journal. 

25 


e    §05    Jlltss  ja 

BY  MBS.  JENNY  MABfffl   PABKEB. 


This  is  one  of  the  new  publications  of  the  Church  Book 
Society ;  and  an  admirable  one  it  is.  We  do  not  know 
who  Jenny  Marsh  Parker  is,  but  she  has  made  a  charming 
book,  and  one  that  is  calculated  to  do  a  great  deal  of  good, 
by  inculcating  the  lesson  that  with  the  spirit  of  Christ  in 
the  heart,  there  is  no  sphere  so  narrow,  and  no  position  so 
humble,  but  gives  a  chance  to  sow  the  seeds  of  goodness 
that  shall  spring  up  in  a  great  harvest  long  years  after  the 
hand  that  sowed  them  is  decayed  in  the  grave.  It  shows 
how  much  a  poor  little  sickly  boy,  with  a  lame  back  and 
a  head  never  free  from  pain,  may  do  in  a  short  life  by  the 
power  of  love  and  kindness — returning  good  for  evil  to 
bad  boys,  and  drawing  them  from  the  ways  of  vice  and 
sin.  The  story  is  simple,  and  very  inartificial  in  its  con- 
struction ;  but  it  is  full  of  genuine  pathos  and  of  the  true 
spirit  of  moral  beauty.  It  belongs  to  the  same  class  of 
books  with  that  exquisite  one,  "The  Ministering  Chil 
dren" — not  equal  to  it,  indeed,  in  extent,  in  variety  of 
interest,  or  in  literary  execution,  but  still  breathing  th« 
same  spirit  and  teaching  the  same  lesson  :  and  we  heartily 
recommend  it  to  parents. — Churchman. 

26 


LIFE  OF  BISHOP  HEBEB 

BY  THE  KEV.  J.  N.  NOKTON. 


This  is  one  of  the  author's  most  interesting  histories  foi 
the  reading  of  the  young.  The  subject  has  uncommon 
interest,  and  is  treated  with  a  genial  appreciation. — Banner 
of  the  Cross. 

The  Life  of  Heber  is  in  Mr.  Norton's  best  style.  It 
contains  as  much  information  about  him  as  could  be  com- 
pressed into  so  small  a  compass,  and  precisely  that  infor- 
mation which  it  was  most  desirable  to  present  to  those 
whom  tender  age  or  want  of  leisure  might  prevent  from 
seeking  it  in  large  volumes. — The  Monitor. 

This  little  biography  will  be  of  peculiar  use  to  those 
who  have  not  the  means  of  obtaining,  or  the  opportunity 
of  procuring,  the  larger  memoirs  of  the  eminent  prelate  to 
whom  it  relates.  It  has  the  particular  merit  of  much 
pointedness  and  simplicity  of  style.  — Episcopal  Recorder. 

This  volume  presents  the  same  characteristics  as  those 
in  the  series  which  have  preceded  it,  being  written  in  a 
style  simple  and  lucid,  yet  forcible,  and  with  evident 
adaptation  to  those  for  whose  use  it  is  intended. 

An  abridgment  of  a  larger  Memoir  was  issued  in  this 
country  last  year  ;  but  the  little  book  before  us  is  designed 
to  accomplish  the  same  purpose  in  a  much  more  happy 
and  effective  manner. — Churchman. 
27 


-do  n-rue  touches  more  thrillingly  the  chords  of  Mis 
Bk.nary  Life  in  the  Church  than  those  of  Heber  and 
Martyn ;  and  we  need  not  say  to  any  of  those  who  are 
familiar  with  Mr.  Norton's  other  biographies,  that  he 
seizes  and  presents  to  the  mind,  with  vivid  and  lively 
brevity,  precisely  those  points  which  are  most  likely  to 
kindle  somewhat  of  the  spirit  of  Heber  in  the  breast  of 
hia  readers. — Church  Journal. 

This  is  another  volume  in  that  attractive  series  whick 
Mr.  Norton  has  prepared,  with  such  general  acceptance, 
foi  the  youth  of  the  Chureh.  It  is  written,  like  all  it* 
predecessors,  with  great  simplicity  and  vigor. — Christian 
Witness. 

A.  valuable  and  interesting  addition  to  the  lives  of  the 
Bishops.  We  can  hardly  imagine  any  species  of  religious 
literature  BO  useful  to  the  young  as  the  lives  of  really 
eminent  and  holy  men,  told  in  a  simple  and  truthful 
manner. — Southern  Episcopalian. 

Bishop  Heber' s  Missionary  Hymn  is  the  cherished 
heart-possession  of  every  Christian  in  our  land.  Here  is 
a  short,  but  full,  graphic,  and  beautiful  delineation  of 
the  noble  and  pious  author  of  that  hymn.  Every  one 
whose  soul  is  inspired  from  week  to  week  by  the  stirring 
song  of  the  mighty  Christian  host — 

''  From  Greenland's  icy  mountains. 
From  India's  coral  strand"— 

will  be  eager  to  read  this  timely  and  fitting  tribute  to  OM 
of  the  most  attractive  and  beautiful  character!  of  modern 
history. — Louisville  Journal. 

26 

1 


THE 


LIFE  OF  GEORGE  HERBERT 

BY 

GEORGE  L.   DUYCKINCK. 


GEORGE  HERBERT  is  of  all  England's  sacred  poets  th^ 
most  sure  of  an  enduring  fame.  He  was  a  true  poet. 
His  life,  too,  was  a  very  lovely  one — that  of  a  true  Chris- 
tian, of  a  scholar,  a  gentleman,  and  a  faithful  parish 
priest.  More  than  this,  he  was  beloved  of  dear  old  Izaak 
Walton,  who  wrote  his  life  with  that  sweet  homeliness  of 
style  which  wins  all  honest  hearts  to  him.  Mr.  Duyckinck 
has  undertaken,  in  this  pretty  little  volume,  to  set  forth 
Herbert's  life  again  "  with  a  simplicity  of  style  and  ful- 
ness of  detail  which  should  in  some  degree  meet  the  re- 
quirements both  of  youthful  and  mature  readers."  He 
has  been  very  successful  in  a  not  very  easy  task.  He  has 
come  to  the  work  imbued  with  a  love  of  his  subject,  and 
thoroughly  understanding  it ;  and  he  writes  with  an  un* 
affected  earnestness  and  purity  quite  in  keeping  with 
it.  The  young  reader  will  find  much  valuable  and  inter- 
esting information  in  the  book,  upon  matters  kindred  to 
or  connected  with  its  main  purpose  ;  and  it  is  calculated 
to  foster  a  correct  literary  taste,  no  less  than  to  beget  a 
healthy  moral  tone.—  Courier  and  Enquirer. 
30 


THE  LIVES  OF  THE  BISHOPS, 

BY  THE  EEV.  J.  N.  NORTON. 

PUBLISHED    BY    THE    CHUKCH    BOOK    SOCIETY. 


TEN  BEAUTIFUL  VOLUMES  18mo.,  each  ILLUSTRATED  with  a  FINI 
STEEL  ENGRAVING.  Bound  In  Half  Morocco,  Embossed,  and  sold 
together  for $2-60 

Or  In  Fancy  Muslin,  for 8  00 

Or  separately,  as  follows  : — 

THE  LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WHITE,    half  emb.  25  c.    Fancy  mus.  30  c. 

THE  LIFE  OF  BISHOP  GRISWOLD,  "        25  c.        "        "80  c. 

THE  LIFE  OF  BISHOP  CHASE,  "        25  c.        "        "     SO  c 

THE  LIFE  OF  BISHOP  SEABUET,     "         25  c,        «        "     80  c. 

THE  LIFE  OF  BISHOP  HOBART,       "        25  c.        «        "     80  c. 

THE  LIFE  OF  BISHOP  MOORE,  of  VA.        25  o.        «        u     80  c. 

THE  LIFE  OF  BISHOP  DEHON,          «        25  c.        u        "     80  c. 

THE  LIFE  OF  BISHOP  GAD9DEN,     "        25  c.        «        «     80  o. 

THE  LIFE  OF  BISHOP  HEBER,          "        25  o.        «        "     80  a 

THE  LIFE  OF  BISHOP  RAVENSCROFT,    25  o.        "        «     80  a 

I\    PRESS, 

THE  LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WAINWRIGHT.  By  E«v.  J.  N.  NO*TOW 

THE  LIFE  OF  BISHOP  CLAGQETT.  «           «           do. 

THE  LIFE  OF  BISHOP  CROES.  "          "          do. 

THE  LIFE  OF  BISHOP  HENSHAW.  M          «          do. 

81 


LIFE  OF  BISHOP  GROES. 

BY    THE    EEV.    JOHN    N.    NORTON. 


NOTICES    OF   THE    PRESS. 

THIS  Life  of  Bishop  Croes  will  be  found  very  useful, 
The  Christian  traits  of  the  Bishop  are  happily  set  forth, 
and  we  find  much  to  admire.  The  volume  is  one  of  de- 
cided interest. 

If  this  series  of  books  is  read  by  children,  they  will  get 
the  best  general  instruction  from  them,  and  soimd  and 
practical  views  of  the  Church.  There  is  much  in  them 
to  stimulate  the  young  to  the  practice  of  early  piety,  and 
to  aim  for  high  excellence  in  life. — Banner  of  the  Cross. 

This  volume,  like  its  predecessors,  is  both  interesting 
and  instructive. — Gospel  Messenger. 

The  history  of  Bishop  Croes'  life,  besides  being  inter- 
esting, as  showing  the  good  deeds  of  one  who  was  ever 
kind  and  amiable,  and  who  performed  most  important 
services  for  the  Church,  is  doubly  attractive,  as  evincing 
the  ability  which  a  young  man  of  energy  and  talent  pos- 
sesses to  raise  himself  to  a  high  position,  in  spite  of  ad- 
verse circumstances. — Churchman. 

The  author  has  succeeded  in  placing  the  character  of 
Bishop  Croes  before  the  Church  and  the  world  in  the  light 
of  truth,  and  in  the  living  energy  of  his  own  actions. — 
Episcopal  Recorder. 

Another  interesting  volume  of  this  series. — Christian 
Witnest. 

33 


LIFE    OF    BISHOP    CROES. 


Mr.  Norton's  Life  of  Bishop  Croes  is  not  limited  to  tha 
matter  personal  to  that  worthy  and  staunch  Bishop,  but 
gives  a  full  and  carefnl  history  of  the  growth  of  the 
Church  in  New  Jersey,  through  all  its  trials  and  diffi- 
culties, up  to  the  year  1832.  In  nearly  every  part  of  it, 
indeed,  the  Bishop  was  more  or  less  concerned,  being  a 
Jerseyman  by  birth  and  breeding,  and  the  unbroken 
association  of  a  long  life.  He  was  a  self-made  man  ;  and 
the  strong  points  of  his  character — strenuous  patience 
and  unflinching  tenacity  of  purpose — were  not  a  little 
owing  to  the  varied  but  stern  discipline  of  his  own  ex- 
perience. His  long  and  laborious  work  in  New  Jersey 
was  a  good  work  well  done. — Church  Journal. 

It  seems  hardly  necessary,  for  the  circulation  of  this 
book,  to  do  more  than  announce  the  author's  name.  He 
has  succeeded  so  admirably  in  his  other  brief  sketches  of 
Bishops,  that  the  Rev.  Mr.  Norton's  name  is  a  guarantee 
for  the  excellence  of  this. — Calendar. 

A  rery  interesting  volume. — Southern  Churchman. 

We  have  been  delighted  in  reading  this  little  book. 
By  Mr.  Norton's  aid  we  follow  a  brave  youth  of  sixteen, 
barely  able  to  read,  enrolled  as  a  soldier  in  the  armies  of 
the  Revolution,  taught  to  write  by  the  drummer  of  his 
company,  serving  his  country  faithfully  in  whatever  sta- 
tion placed,  struggling  with  poverty  in  acquiring  an 
education,  but  rising  triumphant  over  every  obstacle,  to 
take  his  stand  among  the  first  men  of  his  age,  and  to  re- 
suscitate and  build  up  the  Episcopal  Church,  and  to  lay 
broad  and  deep  its  foundation  in  New  Jersey.  We  con- 
sider this  one  of  the  most  successful  of  all  Mr.  Norton's 
efforts,  and  worthy  of  being  put  into  the  hands  of  every 
youth  in  the-  Church. —  Western  Episcopalian. 
34 


LIFE  OF  BISHOP  WAIiWRIGHT. 

BY    THE    KEY.    J.    N.    NORTON. 


NOTICES    OF    THE    PRESS. 

To  the  Church  children  of  this"  Diocese  this  volume  will 
prove  particularly  attractive.  The  incident  related  in 
the  early  life  of  the  Bishop,  and  his  epistolary  produc- 
tions when  yet  a  boy,  will  be  read  with  interest.  All  our 
young  readers  should  procure  and  carefully  read  this 
book. — Churchman. 

Mr.  Norton  has,  we  think,  been  more  than  usually  suc- 
cessful In  delineating  the  life  and  character  of  one  whose 
memory  is  so  fresh  in  the  history  of  Churchmen. — Church 
Review. 

A  very  interesting  book,  and  filled  with  instructive  in- 
cidents. Our  impression  is,  that  Bishop  Wainwright  was 
a  model  man  and  Christian.  We  agree  with  Mr.  Norton 
in  his  beautiful  summing-up  of  his  traits  at  last.  Tried 
by  any  just  rule,  he  was  a  truly  great  man  ;  but  he  was 
great  on  a  scale  of  evenness  and  completeness,  which  is 
not  apt  to  astonish,  but  is  most  difficult  to  equal  or  imi- 
tate.— Banner  of  the  Cross. 

The  friends  of  our  late  excellent  Bishop  will  be  glad  to 
welcome  this  interesting  sketch  of  his  life  and  labors!  It 
is  one  of  a  series  of  books  adapted  to  the  young,  em- 
bodying the  lives  of  the  Bishops  of  our  country,  and  some 
of  the  more  prominent  English  Bishops.  —  Protestant 
Churchman. 

35 


LIFE   OF   BISIIOP  WAIXWRIGHT. 


This  is  a  continuation  of  the  popular  series,  already  so 
favorably  received  by  the  Church.  The  author  has  been 
enabled  to  enliven  the  earlier  part  of  the  memoir  by 
some  letters  written  in  boyhood,  and  which  will  amuse 
children.  The  various  letters  of  the  Bishop  to  his  chil- 
dren in  after-life  contain,  in  brief  and  affectionate  sim- 
plicity, a  world  of  wisdom.  The  interest  increases  as  the 
story  proceeds,  and  culminates  in  that  brief  and  busy 
Episcopate  which,  in  the  immense  amount  of  its  labors, 
and  the  solemn  suddenness  of  its  close — the  sharp  recoil 
of  nature  against  severe  overwork — yet  remains  stamped 
so  strongly  and  so  warmly  in  the  heart  of  the  Church. 

The  exquisite  line-engraving  portrait  of  the  Bishop, 
which  embellishes  the  work,  is  one  of  the  happiest  like- 
nesses of  him  that  we  have  ever  seen. — Church  Journal. 


Clergy  and  Parish  List  of  the  Protestant  Episcopal 
Church 

Itf  THE  UNITED  STATES. 

In  addition  to  a  general  Clergy  List,  showing  the  Post- 
Office  address  of  each  clergyman,  this  work  contains  a 
Tabular  List  of  the  towns  in  each  of  the  Dioceses  hi  which 
there  are  Parishes,  given  alphabetically;  and  also  the 
name  of  the  Church,  and  of  the  Rector,  with  the  r  umber 
of  families,  and  of  communicants  in  each  Parish,  as  far  as 
can  be  ascertained.  A  convenient  and  desirable  work.— 
Calendar. 

36 


CRITICAL    NOTICES. 


Life  of  Bishop  Claggett,  of  Maryland.     By  Rev. 
JOHN  N.  NORTON,  M.A. 

The  Life  Of  Bishop  GriSWOld.     Second  Edition.     En- 
larged.    By  the  same  Author. 

The  Life  of  Bishop  White.    By  the  same  Author. 

Second  Edition.     Enlarged. 

The  above-mentioned  books  are  published  by  the  Gen  - 
eral  Protestant  Episcopal  Sunday  School  Union  and 
Church  Book  Society,  New  York,  1859.  And  most  choice 
books  they  are,  too.  Written  or  compiled  by  one  of  the 
soundest  divines  of  the  Church,  and  having  also  the  merit 
of  truth,  and  being  most  interesting  narratives  of  the 
lives  of  honored  and  distinguished  Bishops  of  the  Church, 
we  recommend  them,  as  they  were  specially  intended,  to 
every  Sunday-school  of  the  Church. 

The  ' '  Life  of  Bishop  Claggett' '  was  published  by  con- 
tributions from  the  Diocese  of  Maryland  ;  has  a  very  well 
executed  steel  engraving  of  the  Bishop ;  is  dedicated  to 
the  Hon.  Ezekiel  F.  Chambers,  of  Chestertown,  Maryland ; 
and  the  preface  asserts  that  "Rev.  Ethan  Allen,  D.D., 
of  Baltimore,  has  been  engaged  in  good  earnest  in  com- 
piling and  preparing  a  much  larger  work  upon  the  '  Life 
and  Times  of  Bishop  Claggett.'  " 

The  "Life  of  Bishop  Griswold"  is  an  exceedingly  in- 
teresting volume,  aside  from  its  value  as  a  biography  of 
the  late  Bishop ;  because  it  sets  forth,  though  briefly,  a 
history  of  what  was  once  called  the  Eastern  Diocese,  com- 
posed of  the  present  dioceses  of  Maine,  New  Hampshire, 
Vermont,  Rhode  Island,  and  Massachusetts.  It  has  also 
a  very  beautifully  executed  steel  engraving  of  the  Bishop. 

These  books  are  characteristic  specimens  of  the  work 
and  material  of  the  Society  which  issues  them,  and  which 
deserves  the  hearty  co-operation  of  the  Church  in  all  its 
good  works.  Long  may  it  flourish  to  send  forth  for  chil- 
dren such  works,  imquestionable  in  character,  and  sanc- 
tifying in  influence.— Churchman. 
37 


THE  LIBRARIAN: 

0f  tt 


General  Protestant  Episcopal  Sunday  School  Union 
and  Church  Book  Society. 


An  excellent,  and  we  think  it  will  hereafter  be  re- 
garded an  indispensable,  book  of  reference.  It  gives  an 
alphabetical  list  of  all  the  subjects  treated  of  in  the  books 
issued  by  the  Society,  with  reference  to  the  volume  in 
which  each  subject  is  considered.  This  is  followed  by  a 
list  of  the  names  of  the  authors  of  the  various  books,  so 
far  as  known  ;  then  a  list  of  the  illustrations ;  an  alpha- 
betical and  numerical  catalogue.  The  whole  concludes 
with  a  list  of  the  books  of  instruction  published  by  the 
Society. — Gospel  Messenger. 

This  book  is  much  more  than  is  indicated  by  its  title. 
It  contains  an  index  of  subjects  in  the  various  publica- 
tions of  the  Society,  and  in  what  volume  each  may  be 
found  ;  a  list  of  the  authors  and  illustrations  ;  an  alpha- 
betical and  numerical  catalogue  of  the  Society's  books, 
and  also  books  of  instruction  and  Sunday-school  requisites 
in  general.  It  is  valuable  for  S.  S.  teachers  and  pastors  ; 
and  every  librarian  of  a  parish  or  S.  S.  library  ought  to 
have  it  for  constant  reference. — Calendar. 
38 


jt 


FROM  THE  WOODS  OF  CAEOLOA. 


MESSES.  EDITORS — Among  the  many  beautiful  presents 
to  gladden  the  hearts  of  our  children  at  this  happy  sea- 
son, I  know  of  none  having  as  strong  a  claim  on  an  in- 
habitant of  this  State,  and  especially  of  this  city,  as  the 
volume  entitled  ' '  A  Wreath  from  the  Woods  of  Caro- 
lina." 

The  design  of  the  work  and  the  literary  matter  are  by 
a  lady  of  this  city,  whose  genius,  manifest  to  all  in  this 
production,  and  evinced  to  her  friends  in  several  depart- 
ments of  the  arts,  not  all  the  cares  of  a  large  family  and 
a  responsible  position  have  been  able  to  repress  ;  while 
another  lady  of  this  city  has  furnished  the  colored  draw- 
ings from  which  the  beautiful  flowers  have  been  engraved. 

The  author  has  presented  the  fruit  of  her  labors  to  the 
Church  Book  Society.  It  is  therefore  on  her  part  an 
offering  of  piety,  as  well  as  of  taste  and  talent,  to  swell 
the  amount  of  the  good  and  beautiful  things  of  the  season. 

The  Society  have  shown  their  sense  of  the  value  of  the 
gift  by  the  expense  and  pains  which  they  have  bestowed 
upon  the  volume.  Its  paper,  type,  and  above  all,  exquisite 
representations  of  the  flowers,  make  the  book  a  treasure 
in  its  externals. 

But,  after  all,  the  stories  for  the  children  constitute  its 
chief  attraction  and  merit.  The  style  is  singularly  clear 
and  animated  ;  the  spirit  is  the  spirit  of  love  and  cheerful 
piety  ;  the  lessons  are  wise,  yet  admirably  adapted  to 
children  ;  and  the  whole  is  suggestive  of  the  brightness 
and  fragrance  and  freshness  of  the  woods  themselves,  in 
a  charming  morning  of  May. 

Let  all  the  friends  of  the  young  see  that  their  little 
favorites  have  among  their  Christian  treasures  ' '  A  Wreath 
from  the  Woods  of  Carolina."  —  From  ihe  Raleigh  (North 
Cardinal  Standard. 

39 


BOOK   NOTICES. 

JUVENILE    BOOKS. 


' '  Juveniles' '  are  the  most  taking  books  just  now.  The 
Rev.  F.  D.  Ilurriman,  agent  of  the  Protestant  Episcopal 
Sunday  School  Union,  has  recently  published  some  seven 
or  eight,  which  the  little  folks,  male  and  female,  are  much 
pleased  with.  The  two  largest  are  "  Bessie  Melville"  and 
"  Sidney  Grey,"  very  neat  16mo  volumes.  The  story  of 
Bessie,  though  simple  and  unpretending,  is  charmingly 
entertaining  ;  its  excellent  lessons  are  rendered  so  attract- 
ive that  the  most  indolent  and  thoughtless  can  hardly 
fail  to  profit  by  them.  The  main  object  of  the  book  is  to 
show  how  prayer-book  instructions  may  be  practiced  in 
the  ordinary  transactions  of  life — an  object  which,  so  far 
as  I  can  pretend  to  judge,  is  successfully  carried  out. 
"Sidney  Grey"  is  designed  chiefly  for  boys.  It  contains 
incidents  enough  for  a  "sensation"  novel;  but  they  are 
not  treated  in  the  sensation  style.  Not  but  those  most 
commonplace  are  invested  with  an  interest  which  many  a 
pretentious  romance-writer  of  the  present  day  would  en- 
deavor in  vain  to  impart  to  his  most  elaborately  got  up 
"scenes."  "  Mia  and  Charlie"  is  by  the  same  author — 
a  charming  story,  or  rather  series  of  stories,  for  the  young. 
The  account  which  the  pretty  little  book  gives  of  a  week's 
holiday  at  the  Bydale  Rectory  is  lively,  entertaining,  and 
instructive  in  no  ordinary  degree.  It  has  caused  many  a 
bright,  happy  smile  since  the  holidays  commenced ;  and 
it  is  worth  reading  at  any  time.  In  this  hurried  chat  I 
can  only  mention  "The  Boy  Missionary,"  "The  Life  of 
Bishop  Wainwright,"  "The  Life  of  George  Herbert," 
4 'The  Life  of  Bishop  Ravenscroft,"  and  "The  Tortoise- 
Shell  Comb."  Each  tiny  "Life"  is  embellished  with  a 
handsome  portrait. — Newark  Daily  Advertiser. 
40 


BOOK    NOTICES. 

BESSY  MELVILLE; 

Or,  Prayer-Book  Instructions  Carried  Out  Into  Life, 

A  SEQUEL  TO  "THE  LITTLE  EPISCOPALIAN." 

BY   M.    A.    C. 


The  title  of  this  very  handsome  volume  gives  a  good 
idea  of  its  character.  "Bessy's"  story,  though  simple 
and  unpretending,  is  replete  with  that  kind  of  instruction 
which  it  is  essential  that  all  Christian  children  should  re- 
ceive in  one  form  or  other  ;  and  what  is  more,  its  lessons 
are  rendered  so  attractive  that  the  most  indolent  and 
thoughtless  of  our  little  friends  will  find  pleasure  in 
learning  them.  The  author  possesses  the  rare  faculty  of 
combining  the  useful  with  the  agreeable,  and  at  the  same 
time  writes  in  pure,  correct  English,  which  is  more  than 
could  be  said  of  many  pretentious  novelists  of  the  present 
day.  The  book  is  well  printed,  and  tastefully  bound  in 
muslin. — Philadelphia,  Daily  News. 


MIA  AND  CHARLIE; 

OR, 

A  WEEK'S  HOLIDAY  AT  THE  BYDALE  RECTORY, 

Is  another  illustrated,  instructive  book,  from  the  same 
press.  It  is  sufficient  to  say  that  it  is  worthy  of  both. 
Indeed,  it  has  seldom  been  our  privilege  to  examine  a 
volume  better  calculated  to  coax  children  to  be  sensible, 
religious,  and  good.  Boys  and  girls  will  be  equally 
pleased  with  it,  and  we  recommend  it  accordingly. — Phil- 
adelphia Daily  News. 

41 


BO  )K    NOTICES. 

Sidney  Grey.     A  Tale  of  School  Life.     By  the  author 
of  "Mia  and  Charlie," 

Is  a  good,  entertaining,  useful  book  for  boys.  It  contains 
sufficient  incidents  for  a  modern  romance,  but  they  are 
not  of  the  "intense"  kind.  On  the  contrary,  they  are 
generally  of  ordinary  character,  such  as  are  constantly 
occurring  around  us ;  but  those  most  commonplace  are 
invested  with  a  degree  of  interest  which  is  in  itself  a 
charm.  "Sydney  Grey,"  however,  is  no  baby's  book. 
Indeed,  there  are  not  many  adults  who  would  not  find  its 
teachings  profitable.  The  style  of  the  narrative  is  chaste, 
lively,  and  graphic,  the  typography  is  excellent,  and  the 
binding  at  once  neat  and  substantial.  Nor  must  we  omit 
to  tell  the  little  folks  that  they  will  also  be  pleased  with 
the  illustrations  in  "  Sydney  Grey."  There  are  no  better 
safeguards  against  Popery  than  books  of  this  kind.— 
Philadelphia  Daily  News. 


The  Boy  Missionary.    By  MRS.  JEXXY  MARSH  PARKER. 

This  is  another  little  volume  which  is  destined  to  do 
much  good,  for  it  is  so  written  that  it  will  be  read  with 
avidity  by  those  for  whose  benefit  it  is  intended.  The 
story  of  Davie  Hall  is  full  of  wholesome  encouragement, 
and  can  not  fail  to  make  an  impression. 

The  Episcopal  Church  Book  Society  have  also  recently 
published  "The  Life  of  Bishop  Wainwright,"  "The  Life 
of  George  Herbert,"  "The  Life  of  Bishop  Ravenscroft," 
and  "The  Tortoise-Shell  Comb,"  all  of  which  are  well 
suited  for  children.  Each  tiny  "Life"  is  embellished 
with  a  fine  portrait,  and  ought  to  find  a  place  in  the 
juvenile  library  of  every  Protestant  family. — Philaddfbia 
Daily  Newt. 

42 


life  at  6mge  fntat 


BY  GEORGE  L.  DUYCKINCK. 
New  York,  1S5S  :  pp.  197. 


WE  have  too  long  neglected  to  do  our  share  in  bringing 
this  delightful  little  book  to  the  notice  of  the  lovers  of 
holy  George  Herbert,  among  whom  we  may  safely  reckon 
a  large  number  of  the  readers  of  the  ' '  Atlantic. "  It  is 
based  on  the  life  by  Izaak  Walton,  but  contains  much  new 
matter,  either  out  of  Walton's  reach  or  beyond  the  range 
of  his  sympathy. 

Notices  are  given  of  Nicholas  Ferrar  and  other  friends 
of  Herbert.  There  is  a  -very  agreeable  sketch  of  Bemertou 
and  its  neighborhood,  as  it  now  is,  and  the  neat  illustra- 
tions are  of  the  kind  that  really  illustrate.  The  Brothers 
Duyckinck  are  well  known  for  their  unpretentious  and 
valuable  labors  in  the  cause  of  good  letters  and  American 
literary  history,  and  this  is  precisely  such  a  book  as  we 
should  expect  from  the  taste,  scholarship,  and  purity  of 
mind  which  distinguish  both  of  them.  It  is  much  the 
best  account  of  Herbert  with  which  we  are  acquainted. — 
Atlantic  Monthly. 

43 


f  if*  0f  Si 

BY  THE  REV.  J.   N.   NORTON 


THB  memoir  of  this  Boston  boy  (son  of  a  New  England 
Congregationalist  preacher,  who  afterwards  took  orders  in 
the  Church  and  died  in  South  Carolina,  where  his  more 
celebrated  son  afterwards  became  Bishop)  is  not  marked 
by  any  very  striking  incident,  but  breathes  everywhere 
the  quiet  firmness,  the  affectionate  nature,  the  sober  and 
steady  principles,  the  meek  and  humble  spirit  of  its  sub- 
ject. His  warm  friendship  for  Bishop  Hobart  led  to  a  long 
continued  correspondence,  some  specimens  of  which  are 
inserted  in  this  memoir.  —  Church  Journal. 

These  biographies  of  the  Bishops  are  all  interesting.  — 
Southern  Churchman. 

Another  and  very  interesting  addition  to  the  several 
memoirs  of  our  Bishops  which  Mr.  Norton  has  been  dili- 
gently preparing  and  sending  through  the  press.  The 
peculiar  energy  displayed  by  the  subject  of  this  memoir, 
while,  a  child  of  eight  years,  he  crossed  the  river  from 
John's  Island  to  Charleston  in  a  boat,  and,  by  his  earnest 
pleading,  obtained  the  services  of  a  physician  for  his  dying 
father,  continued  to  mark  him  through  life,  united  to  the 
tenderness  and  ready  sympathy  which  formed  so  import- 
ant an  element  of  his  piety  and  his  usefulness.  —  Protestant 
Churchman. 

44 


CRITICAL    NOTICES. 

A  most  perfect  character,  well  drawn  out,  and  shown  in 
various  colors,  conspiring  to  complete  the  picture  of  a 
righteous  man. — The  volume  is  one  of  the  most  attractive 
of  the  series. — Mr.  Norton  is  determined  that  Bishops  shall 
be  remembered,  and  no  good  of  them  be  lost. — Banner  of 
the  Cross. 

A  person  might  be  induced  to  read  the  life  of  this 
Bishop,  not  only  because  of  its  literary  source,  but  because 
of  the  resemblance  in  the  portrait  attached  to  the  ener- 
getic Bishop  Philander  Chase.  Mr.  Norton  has  worked 
into  this  memoir  much  general  information  in  the  history 
of  the  Church  during  the  life- time  of  Bishop  Bowcn,  and 
some  valuable  thoughts  on  incidental  subjects. — Calendar. 

This  is  an  interesting  and  truthful  sketch  of  one  whose 
memory  is  warmly  cherished  in  our  diocese,  and  whose 
character  and  attainments  were  such  as  to  make  him  one 
of  the  men  of  mark  in  our  Church.  The  material  for  the 
biography  has  been  well  worked  up  by  Mr.  Norton,  and 
the  interest  of  the  volume  is  much  increased  by  the  intro- 
duction of  some  graphic  reminiscences  by  the  Rev.  Paul 
Trapier,  and  extracts  from  some  of  the  Bishop's  own  letters 
when  travelling  in  Europe. 

The  quiet  dignity,  mild  benevolence,  and  general  con- 
scrvativeness  of  the  Bishop's  character  are  properly  delin- 
eated, and  justice  is  done  to  the  earnestness  of  his  Episco- 
pate and  the  tender  faithfulness  of  his  pastoral  intercourse. 
—Southern  Episcopalian. 

45 


This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last 
date  stamped  below. 


REMINGTON  RAND  INC.  20 


213         (533) 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

Illl  Hill  Hill  Hill  Illll 


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M117s 


